


Daddy Issues

by McMeekle



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen, Headcanon, LGBT Headcanon, LGBTQ Character, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:41:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 27,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28574688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McMeekle/pseuds/McMeekle
Summary: The world around 15 year old Michael Afton is falling  apart. His mom left them, his sister was killed, and his father never pays attention to him.  He was practically raised by his father's best friend, Henry Emily. To maybe get his father's attention, he scares and taunts his little brother Chris. Eventually Michael and his gang of friends take their taunting too far.TW: Abuse, harsh subjects
Relationships: Michael Afton/Original Female Character(s), Michael Afton/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 33





	1. Birthday

**Author's Note:**

> CW/TW: This story contains subjects of abuse (mental/verbal/physical) and mental trauma.
> 
> This story is also on Wattpad if your prefer that format! Even though you’re seeing this on AO3 and probably prefer this. My user on Wattpad is @local_vintage_gay and you can also see the cover sketches I make for each chapter :). I’ve been working on this story since July I believe and I’m really proud of it so far. 
> 
> If you actually read that: thank you, and enjoy the story!

Birthdays are supposed to be fun. Newly fifteen year old Michael Afton didn't get that luxury. With his ten year old sister Elizabeth being dead and his father ignoring him, his birthday was treated as any regular day. Usually on his birthday, his little brother Chris, who was five at the time, would come running into his room and jump on him to wake him up. This year, Michael woke up on his own. He crept down the stairs to the kitchen. "Dad! Chris!" He called out. He received no response.  
Michael had been bullying and scaring his brother, since their sister passed. He would make fun of Chris for his stupid yellow teddy bear, while Michael had his own stuffed animal he loved just as much. He would never let anyone know that. His brother rarely talked to Michael anymore. He was scared of him. Michael just desperately craved his father's affection, and Chris was getting all of it.  
He sat down at the kitchen table after toasting a piece of bread. He could only stare at his toast and drum his fingers on the table. He took a few bites of the toast and then tossed it in the trash. In his bedroom, he looked at himself in the mirror. His hair was dark, messy, wavy, and down to his shoulders. The circles underneath his eyes were a dark purple that stood out on his pale skin. His shirt was sleeveless as most of his shirts were. He tucked his shirt into his pale blue jeans and cuffed the bottoms. He grabbed his backpack and jogged down the stairs. He slipped on his shoes and began his walk to school.

After a long day of school, Michael returned home. He kicked his shoes off by the front door. "Dad! I'm home!" He shouted into the empty air. "Right," he sighed, "his car wasn't in the driveway." Michael tossed his backpack onto the couch. He turned over to the kitchen and spotted a note on the fridge. "Was that there earlier?" He snatched the note off the fridge. 'Will be home late, get Chris from school at 6'. Michael tore the note in half and threw it into the trash can. "Asshole." He mumbled. "You never stay late after work. You're only doing this so you don't have to get Chris from school." Michael grumbled as if he were talking to his father.  
Just then, the phone rang. Michael groaned and reached for the phone, leaning over the counter. He put the phone against his ear. "Hello." He deadpanned.  
"Hey, kid!" The person on the other end answered with a smile in his voice. It was Henry Emily, his father's business partner and best friend. Michael didn't understand why Emily was friends with a person like his father, but he always assumed it was because Emily was so nice. "How are you?"  
"Hey, Mr. Emily. I'm fine. My father's not home, if that's who you're looking for."  
"I know, Mike, your dad's here with me at the pizzeria. I wanted to talk to you." Emily was as cheery as he usually was. His cheeriness often rubbed off on Michael when he was around him.  
"Me? Why?"  
"Happy birthday, kiddo." Michael could hear the smile in Emily's voice. This made Michael smile a little himself.  
"You remembered my birthday..?"  
"Of course I did. Why do you sound surprised?" There was a moment of silence from both ends. Then Emily spoke up. "Oh.. did William forget again?" Michael's smile was gone now. There was another voice on Emily's end. The accent told him that it was his father. "Nothing, Will. I'm just on the phone with Michael." He said away from the phone. "Sorry, kiddo, your dad wanted something."  
"Did he wanna talk to me or wish me a happy birthday?" Michael asked with a bit of hope in voice.  
"Oh, no. Sorry Michael he didn't say anything about you." Michael sniffled. "Please, don't be upset, kid. How about this? After I get off work, I'll stop by. I got a gift for you and we could get food."  
Michael blinked a few times. Don't cry, boys don't cry. "Sure.. but can you get my dad on the phone?"  
"Of course. Give me just a moment." Michael heard Emily set the phone on the counter and call his father's name. He was able to make out their conversation.  
"What?" His father asked.  
"Michael wants to talk to you."  
His father sighed and picked up the phone. "What do you want, Michael?"  
"Don't you have anything to say to me?" He asked with a slight smile.  
"No... what do you want?"  
"You don't remember what day it is?" His smile faded.  
"Michael, stop playing games. It's not like it's some special day I need to remember."  
Michael blinked a few times, trying to stop himself from crying. "It is dad, and you forgot again, for the third year in a row!" He slammed the phone on the receiver. His hands were shaking with rage. He pounded his fist into the counter. "How can you not remember my fucking birthday?" He yelled. "I'm your son!" He felt hot tears sneak down his cheeks. He wiped his tears as fast as he could. "I just want you to remember that I exist!" He kicked the fridge. He swiftly turned on his heel and stomped up the stairs.

The doorbell had rung a few times before Michael got out of bed to go answer it. He patted his eyes with his fingertips as he slumped down the stairs. When he made it to the door, he peered through the peephole. It was Henry Emily. Michael unlocked the door and opened it to a friendly face.  
"Good evening, Mr. Emily." He said, sniffling. Emily stood not much taller than Michael. His hair was a curly dirty blond that rested on his glasses. Michael let Emily in and shut the door behind him.  
"Good evening, Michael." Emily was carrying a medium sized box that was neatly wrapped in blue paper. "Are you okay? Your eyes are all puffy." He set the box down on the counter and placed his arm on Michael's bare shoulder.  
"I'm fine." He brushed Emily's hand off of his shoulder.  
"Are you sure? I don't want you to be upset on your birthday." Michael nodded. "Alright, but you can always talk to me. And I'm not just saying that. I mean it, because I love you." He held out the box to Michael. "Happy birthday." Michael took the box and tore off the shiny paper. Under the paper was a thin cardboard box. He removed the top of the box to reveal a neatly folded, jet black, leather jacket. He stared at it, not knowing whether to smile or cry. He had always wanted a nice leather jacket. Michael looked up at Emily, a slight glimmer of happiness in his eyes. "So, do you like it?"  
"It's awesome." Michael smiled, carefully taking the jacket out of the box. The jacket unfolded itself, he kept smiling at it. He tossed the coat on the counter and tightly hugged Emily. "Thank you so much." Michael mumbled into his shoulder.  
Emily wrapped his arms around Michael's shoulder. "No problem, kid." He ran his hand through Michael's messy hair. He never wanted to let go. Emily radiated a comforting heat that made Michael feel safe. He never got that kind of affection from his own father. He closed his eyes and imagined that his father was hugging him instead. He knew that wouldn't happen and savored the affection he was receiving. Emily pulled away from the hug. "Put on your jacket and let's get you something to eat." Emily walked over to the front door. Michael, excited for once, threw on his new jacket. It was a bit big, but Michael was a bit thinner than usual. He slipped on his shoes, not bothering to tie them, and followed Emily out the door. 

After their dinner, Emily drove Michael home and they soon pulled up in the Afton's driveway. He and Michael both got out of the car. He dug into his jacket pocket to grab the key to his home. When he stepped up onto the front porch, he stuck the key in the lock and twisted it open. He stepped through the door, Emily behind him. Michael froze, seeing his father was sitting at the kitchen table, his little brother across from him. He forgot to get Chris from school.  
"What's wrong, kid?" Emily asked, shutting the front door behind himself. He looked towards the kitchen at William who was coldly glaring at his older son.  
"Welcome back, Michael, Henry." William said, his voice just as cold as his expression.  
Henry stepped into the kitchen. "Look, Will, whatever happened it's not Michael's fault."  
"I don't want to hear it from you, Emily." William stood up, his height intimidating to his son. "I don't want to hear your excuses, Michael. You left your brother to wait at school for almost an hour." Emily stood in between Michael and his father. That backfired as he reached out to grab the collar of Michael's jacket. "Where'd you get this?"  
"Mr. Emily gave it to me as a gift." He responded, pushing his father's hand away. "And I'm sorry about Chris." Michael's eyes fell to the ground.  
"A gift for what?" His father asked, forcing Michael to look up at him.  
"My birthday, that you forgot." He spat.  
"Don't speak to me like that." William said, yanking on the collar of his son's jacket.  
"William!" Emily interjected. His father shot Emily a deadly look.  
"You forgot my birthday again! All I wanted was for you to acknowledge that it was my birthday! Or maybe even a damn hug! Is that too much to ask?" Michael shouted.  
"It's not your birthday." His father responded, crossing his arms over his chest.  
"It is, William. It's my fault for taking the kid out for dinner. I just thought you hadn't planned anything so I'd cheer him up." Emily cut in, once again stepping in between the two. William took his focus from his son to his friend.  
"Michael doesn't need you to stand up for him anymore. In fact, I'm sick of you standing up for him. He's not a child, he can handle things himself." William spat back. Henry sighed, adjusting his glasses. "Why did you bother wasting your money on him?" As the two were arguing, Michael escaped up to his bed room. He shut the door and locked it. He sat down next to the door and covered his ears. They argued just like his parents used to.  
"Don't fucking cry... You're not supposed to cry..." Michael mumbled to himself. His shaky breath quickened. "What would Lizzie say...?" He said with a breath in between each word. He squeezed his eyes shut, imagining his younger sister sitting next to him. When she was alive, she comforted him when their father would yell at him. She would embrace him and tell stories and jokes until he smiled. After their mother left, Lizzie was the only person, aside from Emily, that he felt like he could truly express his emotions to. Michael would've done anything for her, anything just to see his sister again.  
Silence fell on the house, except Michael's breathing that had softened. He lifted his head out of his knees and watched as the sun left the sky. He saw a figure outside his window. She was smiling. She was his sister. "Happy birthday, Mikey!" He rubbed his eyes and blinked to adjust his vision. No one was there.


	2. Best Friend

It had been a week since Michael turned 15, and life for the distraught Afton family continued as normal as possible. After Emily left on his birthday, his father had grounded him for two weeks, because he forgot his brother and talked back. Michael stayed isolated in his room. He would be spending his free time with his friends, but instead he was laying on his bed, rock'n'roll music blasting from a cassette player. He kept tossing an old stuffed animal, a Foxy the Pirate one, up and catching it.  
His bedroom door opened, but he didn't look. "Go away, Chris." He groaned. When the door didn't shut, Michael sat up and chucked the stuffed animal towards the door. "I said, go away! I'm not in the mood for your shi-" The stuffed fox was thrown back at him. It hit his head, cutting him off. He froze, spotting his father looming in the doorway, instead of Chris. He swung his legs over the side of the bed to face his father. "Hey... Dad, I thought you were Chris.." Michael's voice weakened.   
His father's dark brows created deep creases in his face. His icy blue eyes pierced straight through Michael's. Michael's eyes fell to the floor. His father pulled the plug on Michael's cassette player. "So this is how you treat your brother? By throwing shit at him?" His father interrogated; His British accent was faint as he spoke.   
"He can get annoying sometimes.." Michael mumbled.   
"So you scare him and yell at him? You think that's a reasonable way to treat your little brother. Who, mind you, is five!" William shouted, stepping into the room.   
"It's not my fault he gets all the attention around here. You always forget that I exist." He glanced up at his father's face.   
"If you weren't such a piece of shit, maybe I wouldn't forget you exist." William lowered his voice and took a step closer to his son. He yanked the collar of Michael's shirt, forcing him to stand. Michael turned his head to the side to avoid looking at his father. He held his breath. "You're such a pathetic excuse of a man, needing someone else to stand up for you." He let go of Michael's shirt. He turned around and swiftly walked out of the room, loudly slamming the door behind him.   
Michael continued to stand in that same position for a few moments. He finally let the breath he had been holding in escape his lungs. He swallowed and slowly sat down on the edge of his bed. He gripped the sheets tightly and clenched his jaw. His father was right. He was a pathetic piece of shit who bullied a five year old, because he couldn't control his emotions. He picked up his Foxy plush and squeezed it as hard as he could. He let go and ran his thumb along the soft fabric the plush was made of. He petted the ears and looked at it's glossy yellow eyes. He got this plush on his eighth birthday from his parents. His mother claimed that his father got them manufactured for him, but Michael found that hard to believe.   
"I miss you, mom." He whispered to the plush, setting it down on his nightstand. He laid back down on his bed and shut his eyes, not bothering to turn his music back on.  
Down the hall, he could hear William talking to Chris in a completely different tone than what he just received. William has never treated him the way he treated Chris.   
Michael's eyes opened, slowly adjusting to the darkness. He checked the alarm clock on his nightstand. It read 9:03. He sat up in his bed. He hadn't done any of his schoolwork, but that was typical for Michael anyway. He got off of his bed and moved to the door. To listen to his father, he pressed his ear against the door. The noise of his father rummaging around in the kitchen downstairs. He slipped on his old shoes and threw on his leather jacket. He glanced at his window. He climbed up onto his bed and pushed open the window. He had kicked out the window screen awhile ago and his father never bothered to replace it. He hopped out, not bothering to shut the window or even the curtains. His father most likely wasn't going to check up on him anyway.  
He carefully crept to the edge of the slanted roof so he wouldn't fall. When he reached the edge of the roof, he looked down. He crouched and grabbed the edge before swinging himself down. He let go and landed on the ground, hurting his ankles a bit. He shook off the pain in his ankles and ran around to the front of his house, avoiding the windows. Once he was at the front of the house, he booked it down the street. He followed the signs until he made it to the main road. He stopped running and kept a steady walking speed.  
He pushed the door of the local convenience store, ringing the bell at the top. The cashier glanced at the door to see who had entered. Michael walked his way over to the fridges. He stood in front of the fridges and scanned through all of the drinks. The distinct design of Jolt Cola, an energy drink, caught his eye. It was his best friend Kyle's favorite drink. He grabbed a can for Kyle and a bottle of Coke for himself. He made his way over to the counter and placed the drinks on it.   
"Can I have a pack of Camel cigarettes?" He asked the cashier, who was scanning the drinks.  
The cashier begrudgingly grabbed a pack and scanned them. "You shouldn't be smoking these, kid." She said, taking Michael's cash and placing it in the register.  
"Don't call me kid. You're barely older than I am."   
The cashier pursed her lips. "I can call you whatever I want. You're just some stupid high school boy who thinks it's school to smoke cigarettes." She jabbed, packing what Michael purchased into a plastic bag.   
Michael snatched the bag from her. "I don't need your opinion, lady. Go get your heart broken or something." The cashier flipped him off and he returned the favor as he walked out of the store.   
Michael hummed as he followed the road signs to Kyle's home. He trespassed through a few yards as a shortcut. He hopped over a wooden fence, into his friend's backyard. Light shined out of Kyle's bedroom window. Michael twisted the bag of things he bought around his wrist, before starting to climb the tree near Kyle's window. He carefully crept onto the roof and sat by Kyle's window. Before knocking, he watched his friend for a moment. He sat on his bed and sketched in a notebook. Kyle's hair was a natural pale blond, it was fluffy and soft looking. He knocked on the glass to grab his attention. Kyle turned his head to the window. He pushed himself off of his bed and stepped towards the window. The window made a creaky noise as he opened it.   
"Hey." He smiled.   
"I'm bored. Let me in."   
"And why should I do that?" He teased.  
"I brought you Jolt Cola." Michael said, holding up the bag. Kyle reached for it, but Michael pulled it away. "Let me in and you can have these." Kyle rolled his eyes.  
"Fine. My mom's not home, so we don't have to worry about her yelling at us." Michael quietly climbed into Kyle's room. It had been awhile since he was there. He kicked off his shoes and sat on Kyle's bed, leaning against the headboard. "Give me the bag." Kyle reached for it again.  
"That's not a nice way to ask." Michael joked, taking out his own drink and opening it. He pulled the Jolt Cola out of the bag and held it over Kyle's head. He set his Coke on the side table. Kyle grabbed Michael's arm that was holding the energy drink. He sat on top of his friend, so it would be easier to get the drink. He kept reaching for it and pushed on Michael's chest. He could easily stand up and grab it, but never did.  
"Come on! Give it!" Kyle whined. His deep brown eyes were wide, looking at him like a puppy begging for a treat. Michael felt something tug on his heart and his stomach felt fuzzy.  
"Alright, you win." He chuckled, handing Kyle the can. "Now get off of me." Kyle complied. He grabbed the bag and pulled out the pack of cigarettes.   
"Can I smoke one?" Kyle asked, giving him those same puppy eyes.   
Michael nodded. "Yeah, go ahead." Kyle ripped the plastic off of the pack.  
"You got a lighter?" Michael tossed him a purple lighter with initials carved into it. "W.A?"  
"My dad's." He replied.   
Kyle hopped out of the window. "Come on," he gestured to Michael to follow, "my mom would be able to smell the smoke in my room when she gets home." Kyle propped himself up on the roof away from the window and Michael situated himself next to him. Kyle popped a cigarette in his mouth; Michael snatched one from the box. He kept flicking the lighter, but no fire started. "Can you help me, Mikey?" Michael grabbed the lighter from his hands and flicked it, lighting both of their cigarettes at the same time.   
"You're such a baby. Why do you whine all the time?" Michael asked, taking a drag of his cigarette.   
"I'm not a baby. You're just mean." Kyle laughed, tapping the ashes off the cigarette.   
"No, seriously, you act like my brother. He whines all the time and asks for help with everything. And he calls me Mikey, which I hate." He complained.  
"Oh... I thought you liked being called Mikey..." His voice was filled with disappointment. "I felt special, 'cause I was the only one in the group who called you Mikey..." Kyle wore a nervous smile.   
"I didn't have the heart to tell you that I fucking hate it."   
"You always complain about how annoying Chris is... and if he's like me... Am I annoying to you?"   
Michael sighed, putting his cigarette in between his lips. "Yeah, sometimes. You're whiny and clingy."  
Kyle stood up, stamping his foot into the shingles to keep his balance. "I always told you to tell me when I was being annoying or when I was bothering you! I'm sorry that I'm whiny and clingy! You're my friend and you make me happy and I feel like I can whine and cling to you." He yelled at Michael, who was unbothered. "God! You don't even care, do you? You can't go around complaining about your asshole of a dad and then act just like him!" Without thinking, Michael jumped to his feet and shoved Kyle towards the edge of the roof. Kyle lost his balance and fell back. His hands just barely missed the edge of the roof. He attempted to land on his feet, but instead his right wrist smacked the ground with a loud crack. He let out a cry of pain.  
Michael snapped out of the trance he had fallen into and slid down to the edge of the roof. "Holy shit, Kyle. I'm so sorry." He apologized, climbing down from the roof. Kyle was sitting up and cradling his wrist. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he stared at his wrist that had been bent in an awkward direction. It was definitely broken. Michael kneeled in front of him and gently touched his arm. "Here, I can pop it into place for you."   
Kyle slapped his hand away. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" He sobbed, breathing heavily. "You-you just pushed me off the roof and broke my wrist, you asshole! Friends aren't supposed to hurt each other." His eyes were glossed over with tears. Michael felt a pain in chest.  
"I know, and I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me or why I pushed you, you compared me to my dad and- I don't mean to hurt you. I promise I won't hurt you again. I know I sound like a manipulative asshole. Just let me pop it back into place, that's the least I can do." Hesitantly, Kyle held out his wrist. Michael gently grabbed his hand and arm. "It's gonna hurt a little bit." He warned before popping the bone back in place.   
"Ow!" Kyle whimpered. Michael helped him up to his feet. He was still crying and holding his arm. He slapped Michael across the face, leaving a red mark on his cheek. "Fuck you." He sniffled.   
Michael followed behind as Kyle entered his home through the back door. The two boys returned to his bedroom. Kyle threw down a first aid kit on the bed and extended his arm out. "You fix it." He demanded.   
"I don't know how-"  
"You fix it, you broke it."   
Michael opened the kit and let Kyle rest his wrist in his lap. He grabbed a small tube of the stuff that helps heal cuts. He squeezed some out onto Kyle's wrist and rubbed it into his skin.   
"Ow." Kyle winced.  
"Sorry." Michael reached in the kit for bandages. "You're probably gonna need to go to the hospital." He said, beginning to wrap the bandages around Kyle's wrist.  
"No shit... I'll tell my mom when she gets home." He sniffled. Michael cut the bandage and taped it to the back of Kyle's hand with a piece of medical tape. He had wrapped it a few times so it was harder to move.   
"There you go."   
"You still suck." 

The cool spring air hung over them as the two boys sat in silence. Michael plucked another cigarette from the box.   
"That's your third one." Kyle said as Michael flicked the lighter.  
"So?" Michael brought the fire to the tip of the cigarette.   
"You shouldn't be smoking that much."  
"You say that like you don't smoke." Michael grabbed the cigarette out of his mouth and let the smoke slowly escape his lips.  
"I don't smoke a lot, and you know why I do." Kyle held a bag of ice to his wrist and leaned his back against the side of the house.  
"Right... your dad..."  
"Yeah, I don't want you smoking as much as he did. Even though you broke my wrist, I don't want you to die, especially not how he died." Kyle lectured.  
"Fine." Michael said with a sigh, taking his cigarette and putting it out on the roof. "Speaking of your wrist, how does it feel?"  
"Still hurts. The ice helps a little." Michael glanced at his friend, who looked up at him. "I wanna hit you so badly right now."   
"What's stopping you? I deserve it." Michael chuckled.  
"You broke my good hand." Kyle giggled at his own joke. The fuzzy feeling returned to Michael's stomach. He gazed at the clear sky. He could see every star.  
A car honk was heard from the driveway.   
"Shit, your mom's home." Michael got to his feet.   
"Stay here until she's inside. See you Monday." Kyle waved to him and hopped back into his room.   
Michael stood out of the way of the window. The garage door loudly opened and shut and soon he heard her high heels click on the floor.   
"Mom!" Kyle called, leaving his room.  
"Yes, baby? Oh my goodness, what happened to your wrist?" She cried.  
"That's my cue." Michael mumbled to himself and climbed off the roof as carefully as possible. As soon as his feet hit the ground, he ran.

Michael arrived back home within thirty minutes. Light shone through the kitchen windows. He snuck below the windows until he made it into the backyard. He winced a bit and continued climbing until he reached the roof on level with his room. Trying his best not to make noise, he crept onto the roof. He was glad he didn't shut his window when he left. It would've attracted attention from his family. Michael slipped into his bedroom. He closed the curtains and kicked off his shoes, getting dirt on the floor. He shut the window, keeping the cold night air out of his room.   
Michael collapsed onto his bed. He ran his hands through his hair. The vulnerable look in Kyle's eyes after he fell was etched into the back of his mind. He had looked like a wounded puppy. Michael imagined that was what he looked like to his father, a wounded puppy that he kept kicking. He shut his eyes and let out a deep breath.


	3. Family Problems

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Blood

"Michael," a voice said softly, "Michael, wake up." He knew that voice. He slowly opened his eyes and adjusted his vision. Henry Emily crouched in front of him, his hand on Michael's shoulder. Emily looked exhausted. There were dark circles underneath his eyes and his curly hair was messy. Despite looking so worn, he still kept a smile. "Morning, kiddo." Michael rubbed his eyes. He was still in the same outfit he had fallen asleep in.  
"I thought you and my dad worked today." Michael sat up in his bed, stretching his arms and torso out.  
"Some things needed to be fixed so it's not open today, but your dad's fixing the issue and asked me to check up on you guys." Michael scoffed, standing up and loudly cracked his back, making Emily cringe.  
"Like he doesn't trust me to watch my brother." Michael mumbled, not sure if Emily heard it, and followed him downstairs and into the kitchen.   
Chris was sitting on the phone book, so he could reach the table. Emily's kids stood at the counter fixing themselves breakfast.  
"Hey, Michael!" Charlie, one of Emily's kids, smiled; She really was her father's daughter. Charlie was thirteen and stood about a head shorter than Michael. Her wavy brown hair was tied up with a green scrunchie. "Looks like you had a rough night." She laughed, taking her plate to the table. Michael did look rough. His hair was messy and he just looked over all tired. He also smelled faintly of cigarette smoke. He gave her a small wave with his hand, walking over to the stove to grab food.   
"'Cuse me." Michael mumbled to Sammy, Charlie's identical twin. Sammy's name used to be Samantha, but a few years ago Emily sat Michael down and explained how Sammy was transgender. Michael didn't fully understand, but being 'he' instead of 'she' made Sammy feel happy, as Emily described it. Sammy stepped out of the way and went back to the table.  
Michael grabbed quite a bit of food and a drink for himself. He snapped his fingers at Charlie. "Get outta that seat."   
She raised an eyebrow. "Why?"  
"That's Lizzie's seat. No one sits there." Michael said, placing his plate at his seat. In the Afton house, everyone always sat in the same spot at the table, even when they stopped having meals together.   
"But Lizzie's dead."  
Every muscle in Michael's body tensed up. Before he could say or do anything, Emily spoke up.  
"Charlie, don't talk like that. Move to a different seat please."  
"Sorry, dad." She apologized and she sat at their mother's spot.  
"Apologize to Michael, not to me."  
"Sorry, Michael."  
"It's fine." He mumbled.  
As the kids ate, Emily leaned on the counter drinking coffee. He watched over the room like a security guard. He kept his eye on Chris, who kept playing with his stuffed Fredbear instead of eating. "Chris, please eat your food before it gets cold." Emily told him. Chris started to pick at his food, only eating a tiny bit at a time. Emily sighed.   
Michael was the first of the four to finish eating. He was a teenage boy after all, so he ate a lot in a small amount of time. He got up from the table and rinsed his plate off. He went to put his plate and glass in the dishwasher. He turned to the fridge. A loud crash startled him. He spun around to see a glass of juice smashed on the hardwood floor. Chris hid behind his stuffed animal.   
"Chris!" Michael shouted, making his brother hide even more. Sammy and Charlie froze. Michael grumbled as he walked over to the broken glass. He carefully got down on his knees, avoiding glass shards, and started picking it up. "We have plastic cups for him, you know. Dad's gonna fucking kill me."   
"Language." Emily spoke up. Michael looked up to Emily helping him with the glass. As Michael picked up the shards he cut his hand on one of them. He winced, juice getting into the cut.  
"Shit- Shoot!" He corrected himself. He stood up, carefully holding the mixture of glass, juice, and blood in his hands. He walked over to the trash can and dropped the shards in, watching the blood drip off his hands. He quickly moved his hands over to the sink, doing his best not to get any on the floor. He winced as the soap stung his cut. He shut off the sink and dried his hands with a paper towel.   
"Here." Charlie was standing next to him at the counter. She had a few first aid supplies laying in front of her. She took Michael's hand and pressed a paper towel onto the palm to stop the bleeding. "Did you get all the glass, dad?" Henry nodded, dumping the rest into the trash. Chris sat on the couch, crying into his bear.   
"Be careful about stepping here for a bit, there might be tiny pieces I couldn't see."   
Charlie took the paper towel off of Michael's palm. She pressed a folded gauze pad to the cut and wrapped his hand in bandages. "Charlie, it was just a small cut." Michael said, watching her tuck the bandages behind each other.  
"Bandaids on your palm are uncomfortable, and I'm the one who gave Chris the glass." She said as she wrapped up the supplies.   
"Heads up for next time: Don't give Chris anything made of glass." Michael sighed, leaving the kitchen.   
Emily crouched down in front of Chris. "Are you okay, buddy?" He asked with a soft voice. Chris responded with sniffles.   
Michael made his way towards the stairs. "He's being a baby." He said as he walked passed the two comforting his brother.   
Emily sighed, standing up. "Alright, Michael. Why don't you comfort him? He is your brother." Michael turned around on his heels to see Emily standing with his arms crossed, giving him that look of fatherly disappointment. Michael slouched a bit, rolling his eyes.   
"Fine. It's not like it's my fault he's upset." He begrudgingly shuffled over to the couch, kneeling in front of the couch. He could feel Emily's eyes burning through the back of his head. He swallowed the spit in his throat. "What's wrong, Chris?" Michael tried his best to sound as sincere as possible to mask his annoyance. Chris peered up at him over the top of his teddy bear. His eyes were glossed over and puffy.   
"You.. you yelled at me.." Chris sniffled, hiding the bottom half of his face behind Fredbear's head. Michael's expression went blank. He glanced up at Emily who had his head cocked to the side. "And.. you said daddy was gonna kill you... I don't want you to die, Mikey.."  
Michael swallowed. "Dad.. Dad's not gonna kill me, Chris... That's just an expression.. It just means he's gonna yell at me.." Michael placed his hand on Chris's knee.   
"Daddy's always yelling at you..." Chris wiped his eyes on Fredbear's head. "I don't want him to be mean to you because I broke something.." Michael's heart dropped. He heard Emily asking his kids to go upstairs.   
"Dads just yell, and our dad doesn't yell at me all the time. How about we go play a board game in my room?" Michael asked, trying to change the direction of the conversation.   
"Uncle Henry never yells at anyone... He is always yelling at you! He calls you mean names! I hear it with my own ears!" Chris raised his voice, which squeaked a bit due to his tears.   
"Those aren't mean names. Chris. Let's just play a game, okay?" Michael grabbed his brother's tiny hand and stood up from the floor. Chris didn't budge. "Come on."  
"No! You're lying! They are mean names!" Michael begged.  
"Fine! O-only if you promise daddy won't yell at you." Chris sniffled, looking up at his brother.   
"I promise dad won't yell at me." Michael said, lying through his teeth.   
"Okay!" Chris jumped up from the couch and bolted up the stairs. Michael took a step to follow him, but Emily put his hand on his shoulder.   
"Michael, can I talk to you for a second?"


	4. Outburst

Michael sat on the edge of his bed, his leg shaking. He kept his gaze focused on one spot on the wall. The tension in the air could be cut with a knife. As he breathed, his shoulders rose and fell shakily. Emily stood in front of the door. His arms were crossed and his head was tilted to the side just a touch. "What's going on, Michael?" Emily asked in a soft voice. Michael twiddled his thumbs, staring at the carpet.  
"Nothing.. Nothing's going on."  
"Then what was Chris talking about?"   
"You know little kids... they just make stuff up..." Michael swallowed, tapping the pads of his fingers on his lap.   
"Kids don't lie about their parents yelling." Emily sighed. He slipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "You know you can talk to me, right? What was Chris talking about?" Emily kept a soft voice, trying to keep Michael's nerves at a minimum.   
"You know my dad's an angry person... and sometimes he gets angry at me... and he might yell sometimes..." Michael's eyes darted across the floor.   
"I know he gets angry at you. He gets angry at me, but all the time? That's not normal, even for him. Why does he get angry with you, kid?" Emily watched as Michael's eyes wandered. His pupils looked unfocused. He shrugged. "Okay... does your dad insult you... like Chris said?" Michael didn't respond. "I remember him insulting you on your birthday. Does that happen often?" Emily knew Michael didn't want to talk. He stepped over to the corner of the room. Michael thought about leaving the room for a moment, before he noticed that Emily had picked something up. Michael looked up from the floor, his expression like a wounded puppy. Emily was holding Michael's old Foxy the Pirate stuffed animal. Michael's eyes followed Emily as he sat down next him. "Your mother asked me and your dad to get this for you." Michael glanced at the stuffed animal. "They didn't exist yet, so I got a few made. One went to you." He smiled, turning the stuffed animal to Michael.  
"Of course my dad didn't bother trying.." Michael stamped his heel into the ground and knocked the stuffed animal out of Emily's hands.   
"Michael..."   
Michael stood up, stomping his foot into the floor.  
"No!" He turned on his heel towards Emily and shouted. "My dad never bothers to do anything for me. My mother told me he got that for me, knowing he didn't. I'm not even surprised. He either forgets about me or is yelling at me. And yes, he does insult me! He calls me a piece of shit all the time! It-It's like he forgot my name! It's like he doesn't even see me as his son! I can't tell which one is better, yelling or ignoring. At least when he yells at me he remembers I exist!" He took a breath. "And-And Chris thinks it's his fault that my dad yells at me and calls me names!" His voice began to break and he kept taking breaths in between his words. "I don't hate Chris." He sniffed, losing all of the rage he just held. "I... I'm just jealous that he gets my dad's love..." Michael stood there, vision blurred by tears, staring at Emily. He didn't notice he was crying until the tears hit his cheeks. His breaths turned into sobs. He tangled his fingers in his hair and dropped to the bed. Boys don't cry. "God! I'm pathetic. He is gonna yell at me when he gets home!"   
Michael collapsed onto Emily's shoulder, who pulled him close.  
"You're not pathetic for crying, Michael. It's okay to be upset."  
"No, it's not! My dad's right... I am just a weak piece of shit..."  
"You're not weak, kiddo. It's okay for you to cry." Michael squeezed Emily's torso as if he were a teddy bear. He sniffled into his shoulder. It wasn't okay. Michael dressed tough with his cut up shirts and jeans, and a leather jacket, but there he was sobbing into someone's shoulder like a baby. "I'll try to talk to him."  
"He'll just ignore it and yell at me more.." Michael's was muffled by Emily's shoulder.   
"He seems to listen to me. You don't have to worry, okay?" Emily reassured. He attempted to pull away from the hug, but Michael wouldn't let go.   
A soft silence fell over the room with only Michael's sniffles filling the air. Emily allowed Michael to hold onto him. They sat this way for a while; He had never felt so vulnerable.  
Michael cut the silence with a deep breath, and then he spoke. "Don't.. Don't tell anyone I cried.." Michael let go of Emily and wiped his eyes with his sleeves. "It'll just prove his point.."   
"I won't. I'm not going to tell anyone about this conversation., but I am going to confront your father on how he treats you." He placed his hand on Michael's knee. "Now, why don't you go play that game with Chris like you said? He's probably waiting."  
"Okay..."   
"Don't worry, kid. I got you." Emily brushed back the hair that had fallen in front of Michael's face and lightly kissed his forehead. If anyone else had done this, Michael would lash out at this, but Emily was an exception. "Go play with Chris." Emily flashed him his smile. Michael couldn't help but slightly curl up the ends of his lips. Emily stood up from the bed and ruffled Michael's hair before leaving the room.  
  
Chris, Michael, Charlie, and Sammy were sitting on all sides of the game board. Classic rock'n'roll was playing from Michael's cassette player. Chris made him The Beatles. He sat with his knees to his chest and Fredbear sitting next to him. Michael sat with his legs folded over each other, his elbow on his leg, and his hand on his chin. He was staring intently at one space on the board.   
"Are you gonna buy it or not?" Chris asked impatiently. They were playing Monopoly. They had set a small bet. If Chris won, Michael had to buy him whatever candy he wanted from the convenience store. If Michael won, he got to take one of Chris's comic books. If SAmmy or Charlie won, they didn't get either. Michael knew Chris would want an expensive candy just to make him mad, so he wanted to win.  
"Nope." Chris groaned as Michael did this every time his game piece landed on a property.  
"You take too long." Charlie complained.  
"Just for you." Michael teased. "Your turn." He slid the pair of dice across the board to his brother. Chris scooped the dice up in his tiny hands and shook them. He dropped the dice onto the board and one instantly shot underneath Chris's bed.   
"Can you get it?" Chris pleaded.   
"No, that's the fifth time one of the dice has gone under your bed. That's a penalty."   
"What? No, it's not! It's not in the rules." Chris whined. Michael picked up the rule book out of the game box. He straightened his posture, cleared his throat, and began to read.  
"If a player makes a die go under a piece of furniture 5 times or more, they are sent to the jail."   
"I don't believe you." Chris huffed, crossing his arms.  
"Michael, shut up that's not true." Charlie said.  
"Yes it is." Michael showed him the page he was on and pointed to what he had read. Fortunately for Michael, Chris couldn't read that well. "Ha." Michael picked up Chris's game piece and loudly put it onto the jail space.   
"It doesn't say that." Charlie snatched the booklet out of Michael's hands. She quickly scanned over the paragraph Michael had pointed at. "You're such a liar, Michael." Charlie said with disappointment in her voice.  
"You are your father's daughter." He nagged.  
"What is that supposed to mean?" She jumped to her feet.  
"Guys." Sammy mumbled.  
Michael ignored him and jumped up as well. "It's a joke, Charlie. Not like you'd understand that."  
"Guys." Sammy said.  
"Your jokes aren't funny, Michael. You're so rude!"  
"Well if you weren't such a bitch-"  
"Excuse me? I don't even know why my dad likes you so much. I'm gonna tell him you called me that."  
"Go ahead!"  
"Guys!" Sammy yelled, standing in between them. "You made Chris cry. I hate playing games with you two; You fight every single time!" He looked back and forth between the two. "Michael, don't say those things." He grabbed Chris's hand. "Come on, let's go down stairs." Sammy led Chris out of the room.  
Michael and Charlie stood still, glaring, as if they were animals ready to pounce. Before either of them could speak, Sammy and Chris returned to the room.  
"They're arguing." Sammy told them.  
"Who?" Charlie asked.  
"Our dad and thiers."   
"About what?"  
"Michael." Sammy pointed to him.  
"Great." Michael sighed and left the room. He could hear Emily and his father from the end of the hall.  
"I agree, there's something wrong with Michael." His father said. Michael clenched his fist. His father had the audacity to say that when he insulted him all the time.  
"I never said there was something wrong with Michael. I just said that I can see that he's struggling. He has no one to talk to, and especially as a teenager, he needs that. He needs you, William." Almost immediately his father responded, his voice raised.  
"I don't care what you say, Henry. Michael is a teenager who thinks he knows better than everyone, who thinks he is better than everyone. Are you aware of how he treats Chris?" Michael held his breath, afraid of what this conversation could become.   
"Yes, William, I am, but I'm also aware of how you treat him. We had an entire argument on his birthday about this, which you forgot." Emily stated.  
"Don't bring that up again, Henry. He forgot to get his brother."  
"That was one time William, and that was my fault. You need to treat your son better."  
"What the hell do you mean by that?"  
"I mean that I've seen how you treat him. Both of your children have mentioned how you treat him." Emily paused to take a breath. "I can't believe you would treat your son that way." His voice was calm, but firm, just as he had spoken to Michael about Chris. "He's just a kid. He can't take all of that."  
"I don't care, Henry. He treats Chris like shit, so I'll do the same to him. Stop standing up for him. He is fifteen, not a little boy. He's weak." Michael's blood began to boil. He felt someone put their arm around his shoulder. He jumped and turned his head to see Charlie. She gave him a look, raising her eyebrows a bit.   
"Are you okay?" She whispered. Michael shook his head.   
"You don't care?" Emily snapped. "You don't care about how you treat your son. I have known you for over twenty years and that is the most disgusting thing I've heard come out of your mouth. It's not his fault that he can't stand up for himself, when every time he tries you stand over him and look at him like you hate him! He's your son! And he just wants your attention! He wants you to acknowledge him!" Emily's voice was shaking. "There is nothing wrong with Michael. There's something wrong with you, William!" Michael could feel the tension between the two from the top of the stairs. The silence was deafening. He crept down a few steps so he could see them.  
"There is something wrong with that kid. He's messed up. And you have the audacity to come in my home and tell me it's my fault." William spat back at Emily.   
"It is your fault! Michael wasn't like this when Clara was here."   
"Do not bring that whore up around me, Henry. She left our family. At least I'm still here! That brat probably isn't mine anyway." Michael's jaw dropped.   
"What?"  
"Clara slept around so much while we were together. Michael probably isn't my son."  
"William, are you delusional? Michael looks just like you! He looks exactly like you did when you were his age! What has gotten into you?" Emily yelled. Michael stood up and made his way down the stairs.   
"So that's what you think of me..?" Michael said, crossing his arms. "Just a weak, pathetic, brat who may not even be your son." Emily and his father stared at him, wide eyed. "No wonder mom left."   
"You little shit!"  
"William!"  
"I don't need your protection!" Michael screamed at Emily. "And I don't need you!" He pointed at his father. "I'm not scared of you anymore, dad. I don't want to see you ever again!" He ran past his father and towards the door. His father grabbed onto his arm. "Don't touch me!" He growled. He shoved his father's arm off of him and ran out the door.   
His bare feet scraped against the pavement. Tears slipped out of his eyes. In the distance he heard someone yelling for him. He turned into a neighbor's yard and ran to the back. He jumped the fence into the woods, not wanting the person calling for him to find him. He didn't need them. He didn't need family. Rocks and sticks on the ground stabbed his feet as he ran. His vision was so clouded with tears he couldn't see where he was going. He tripped over a branch, getting his jeans and palms dirty. He jumped up and continued to run.


	5. Sharing Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Homophobia, F-Slur, Q-Slur, blood

The cold air stung his lungs as he stood underneath a tree to catch his breath. His feet were sore and felt wet as if they were bleeding. His eyes were dried out and his face was all red. He leaned up against the tree and looked up at the sky for a moment. It was cloudy, no stars. Once he caught his breath, he hoisted himself up into the tree and hopped carefully onto the roof. He walked up the slanted roof and knocked on the window.   
A few moments later, the window opened. Kyle stood there. His expression at first was filled with annoyance, but it dropped when the light from his room hit Michael's face. "You look like hell." He said softly.  
"Thanks. Can I come in?"  
"Why? What happened? You look like you've been crying."   
"I haven't. Now can you let me in? I'm exhausted." Kyle stepped back to let his friend hop into his bedroom. Michael sat on the windowsill.   
"What happened?"   
"How's your wrist?"   
"Don't change the subject on me, Michael. You came into my room in the middle of the night, barefoot, and you look like you've lost your mind. What the hell happened?"   
"Since you want to know so badly, I'll tell you. I yelled at my dad. I would've hit the bastard too, but he probably wouldn't hesitate to kill me if I did that. He can go to hell for all I care." Michael avoided eye contact with his friend. He couldn't let his friend see how vulnerable he was. To his friends he was tough, and it had to stay that way.   
"You're gonna ask me to stay here tonight aren't you?"   
"How'd you know?"   
"I just do. Now you stay here, my mom can't find out. I'll get a cloth and some bandages to clean you up." Kyle turned around and left the room. Michael took this opportunity to look around in his room a little. He looked at Kyle's bed. Before Michael knocked on the window he must've been drawing. There was a sketchbook laying open on his bed. He picked it up and flipped through it. It was mostly filled with tattoo designs and random scribbles. He dropped it back on the bed to do a little more snooping. He flung open Kyle's closet doors. His clothes were hung up neatly and color coded, typical. He flicked through his clothes. There were band shirts and ripped clothes. He spotted something that was hung on the wall behind everything. He made an opening between the clothes to see it. He grabbed it off of the wall and looked at it to make sure he wasn't going crazy. He was holding a rainbow flag, a gay flag.   
He heard the door open and shut, and it was being locked. Michael spun around, still holding the flag. Once Kyle noticed him, his eyes shot open. He dropped the medical supplies on the floor. He stomped over to Michael and snatched the flag back. "Why were you going through my stuff?"   
"You are a queer." Kyle pushed him, making him stumble back a bit.  
"Don't call me that. This isn't what you think it is."   
"Then what else is it? You're a goddamn queer." Michael pointed at the flag in his hands.   
"Michael, please." Kyle gave him those same hurt puppy eyes.  
Michael saw the vulnerability in Kyle's eyes; They matched his own. "I'm sorry. I-I shouldn't have reacted that way... I said I don't want to hurt you, and I won't." Kyle sniffled and sat on the edge of his bed, clutching the flag. "Hey, hey! Don't cry!" Michael removed his leather jacket and draped it over Kyle's shoulders. He cupped Kyle's face. His hot tears touched the palms of Michael's hands. "I don't hate you. You're gay, so what? You're still Kyle." Michael tried his best to cheer him up.   
Kyle whimpered. "You don't hate me?"  
"No." Michael let go of Kyle's face.  
He leaned in and kissed Michael's scratched up cheek. "I forgive you. As long as you won't be an asshole anymore." Kyle's face was painted a shade of pink. He placed his flag on the bed and went to pick up the supplies he had dropped on the floor. He began wiping a damp cloth across Michael's cheek. "Where'd all these scratches come from?"   
"I don't know, I think I might've blacked out on my way here." He gently ran his fingers over his bare arms; There were scratches on them too. Kyle pulled Michael's wrist toward him, beginning to unwrap the bandages.   
"What happened here?"   
"I cut my hand in glass when I was picking it up." Kyle unwrapped the bandage and took off the gauze.   
"Did you clean it? That's a nasty cut."  
"Yeah, yeah it is, my dad's friend's daughter wrapped it up for me. You know Charlie Emily, right?" Kyle took the cloth and pressed it to his palm. Michael winced at the water and soap stinging his cut.  
"Yeah, she's in my art class." He took the cloth off of Michael's palm. The white cloth was now stained with blood. "Hmm, I'll have to throw this away." Kyle mumbled to himself. He wiped the cut with a different section of the cloth, cleaning it the best he could. He dumped out the first aid kit onto his bed. Holding the damp cloth in one hand, he searched for the needed materials with the other. He handed the cloth to Michael, so he could easily bandage the cut. He did the same as Charlie had done earlier. He placed a gauze pad on the cut and wrapped his hand and wrist in bandages. He taped the end down with a tiny piece of medical tape. He took the cloth back from Michael and wiped his face using a clean section. "When are you gonna go back home? I can't keep you here forever." Michael sighed.  
"I don't know. I told him I never want to see him again. I'm not even sure if I meant it. I love him. I mean he is my dad, but he thinks I'm a freak. You can't ever tell Rico and Alyssa about this. They'll go from bullying my little brother to bullying me." Michael let out a nervous chuckle.  
Rico and Alyssa were the other half of their friend group. Rico was the leader type, as he was the oldest. He was a light skin Puerto Rican with medium length black hair. Alyssa was his girlfriend. She was the same age as Michael and the most beautiful girl he has ever seen. She had very dark skin and her curly hair fell perfectly around her head. Michael would be lying if he said he didn't have a crush on her, but Rico would surely kill him if he tried anything.   
"I won't if you don't tell anyone about... you know." He gestured to the flag on his bed. "If my mom finds out, she'll kill me. She has my whole future planned out. She wants grandkids. I'm only fourteen and I like boys, so that's not happening." Kyle chuckled, placing a bandaid on a large cut on Michael's cheek. "You're not worried are you?"  
"Worried? About what?"  
"That you're gonna 'catch my gay' or I'm gonna flirt with you or something..." Kyle kept his hands in his lap. He wasn't looking at Michael. He looked so small and vulnerable. Michael wondered if that was what he looked like to Emily.   
"You never have before, so why would you start now? I mean it's.. It's a little odd.." Michael avoided saying anything mean. He didn't understand Kyle being gay, but he witnessed how attacking his sexuality hurt him. His mind wandered back to the night before. Kyle was closer and nicer to Michael than usual. He wondered if Kyle sitting in his lap was a way of flirting. He wasn't sure how people flirted with each other besides what Rico and Alyssa have done.   
Everyone else at the school was afraid of them, so he had never seen how normal students would flirt. His parents have been separated for years, but they were never very flirty in the first place. Their entire friend group was just outcasts, so they stuck together.   
Rico came from a family that was in an infamous gang, making people scared of him. Alyssa was one of the only black people in their school and she was made fun of, so Rico befriended her. Michael was the kid who came to school with bruises and wouldn't hesitate to hit anyone, kids were scared of him too. Kyle was the weak one that everyone called 'faggot' not even knowing he actually was one. They became that group of delinquents at school no one would bother to mess with or even talk to, with the exception of new kids who didn't know who they were.   
Michael wanted to ask Kyle if that's what he was doing the night before, but he didn't want to upset him more. Kyle wrapped Michael's jacket around himself.   
"I know that me being gay might make you uncomfortable, but it's not odd.. It's not my fault I'm like this. People have called me a faggot and a queer my whole life, it was bound to come true eventually." Kyle turned his head to the flag. He sighed. "That's the only way people see me.. except you guys." He wrapped Michael's jacket tightly around himself. Kyle yawned and packed up the first aid kit. He placed the kit on his nightstand. He got up from his bed to hide the flag back in his closet. He took off Michael's jacket and hung it over his desk chair.   
"You should get some sleep." Michael said, getting up. Kyle threw a pair of basketball shorts at Michael.   
"You can sleep in those." Kyle plopped himself down at the edge of his bed. Michael unbuckled his belt and dropped his jeans. He stepped into the basketball shorts and pulled them up. They were a bit tight, but Kyle was short and skinny.   
"I can sleep on the floor."   
"The floor isn't comfortable." Kyle yanked on Michael's arm, forcing him to fall back onto Kyle's bed. He laughed and laid down next to him. He flicked off the lamp and threw a blanket over them. "Goodnight, you bastard."   
"G'night, Kyle." Michael fell asleep to the lull of police sirens patrolling the town.


	6. Petty Crimes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Police

As Michael tried to sleep, Kyle was curled up next to him, fast asleep. Kyle's bed was small, so there was not a lot of room for the both of them. He had spent the entire day at his house and had been away from his father for over a day. Michael shut his eyes, lying on his back. He would've turned on his side, but Kyle was using Michael's arm as a pillow and he didn't want to wake him up. Michael ran his fingers through Kyle's messy blond hair. It was soft. Michael closed his eyes, still combing his fingers through Kyle's hair. The home phone rang.  
Michael's eyes shot open and he stopped playing with Kyle's hair. He reached over and grabbed the phone, holding it up to his ear. "Hello..?" He groaned.  
"Kyle, it's Rico." Rico had a faint Spanish accent.  
"This is Michael, Kyle's sleeping." He whispered just in case the ringing didn't wake Kyle. "What do you want?"  
"You know how we've always wanted to graffiti underneath that bridge near the outside of town?"  
"That Virgin River Bridge?" Rico laughed at the name.  
"Yeah, that one. Well I stole a bunch of spray paint from my sister. What do ya' say?"  
"Rico, it's two in the morning.."  
"Exactly, no one will catch us. I'll get you and Kyle in twenty. See ya."  
"See you, Rico." Rico hung up his end of the line. Michael put the phone back on the receiver.  
"Who was that...?" Kyle had woken up.  
"Rico. He wants us to come graffiti that bridge." Michael threw the blankets onto Kyle and sat up. He stretched his arms out and stood up.  
"Why now..?"  
"Cause it's late, we won't get caught." Michael said, pulling up his jeans. Kyle rubbed his eyes and got up from his bed. He cracked his back. He made his way over to his closet. Michael sat on the floor to put on a pair of old, raggedy converse he borrowed from Kyle. He quickly tied his shoes and cuffed his jeans. He stood up to grab his coat off of Kyle's desk chair. He glanced up when it wasn't there. Kyle was putting it on. "That's my jacket."  
"I know. I like it."  
"You have your own coat."  
"I know, Mike. But I like your jacket."  
"Give me my jacket, Kyle."  
"Fine, since you're gonna be such a baby about it." Kyle slipped off Michael's jacket and threw it at him. Michael groaned.  
"I'm not being a baby. This jacket is important to me."  
"It's just a jacket."  
"It was a gift." Michael put on his jacket.  
"Okay, Mike. It's not that big of a deal." He chuckled, throwing on a worn denim jacket. The two slipped out the window and carefully snuck off the roof; Michael went first. They sat in the driveway, waiting for Rico and Alyssa to show up.  
Not long after, Rico pulled up on the curb in his beat up Dodge. The passenger side window rolled down.  
"Get in!" It was Alyssa. Kyle and Michael stood up and ran towards the car. Michael ran around to the other side and got in. There was classic rock music playing on the radio. Rico started the car. She turned around towards the backseat. "Don't yell when we get there. If we get arrested, we're fucked." She turned back around.  
There weren't that many cars on the road. Only a few others drove by; Probably people on the way home from the only bar in town. Within a few minutes, they pulled up to the bridge. Rico parked his car and turned it off. They all hopped out. Rico opened the trunk of the car. "Pick your color, boys." Michael grabbed a few cans without paying attention to the color.  
Making sure he didn't slip, he walked down the small hill down to the river. The others followed him to the riverbank. Michael set the cans on the ground and stared at the underside of the bridge. He dropped his jacket next to the paint cans. Rico shook up a can and started to spray the bricks. When Rico looked away to grab another color, Michael shook up a can and added to whatever Rico had painted.  
"What are you doing?"  
"Adding to whatever you're doing." His painting was interrupted by Rico yanking the collar of his shirt and shoving backwards. "Hey!" Michael stumbled over the rocks at the bank of the river and fell in. The water was freezing, and Michael had definitely cut his arm on something. He surfaced, and began to pant. Alyssa and Kyle were standing on the bank.  
"Michael, are you okay?" Alyssa asked him, helping him out of the river. Michael nodded, shivering in the cold night air. "I wish I had a towel or something.." She brushed Michael's bangs out of his face. "Ring out your clothes and lay them out. Put on your jacket so you don't get too cold." She turned around to Rico. "Hey! Maybe don't try to drown our friend."  
"He ruined what I was doing!"  
They continued to argue, but he tuned it out and focused on breathing. Michael shook out his hair like a dog. He held his head over the water and squeezed as much water as he could out of his hair. "You good, Mike?" Kyle asked.  
"Well, I'm fine, but I'm freezing my ass off." He chuckled, taking off his shirt. He twisted it over the river, ringing out as much water as possible. He laid his shirt out on the grass. He kicked off his shoes and socks next to it. He laughed. "I feel exposed."  
"It's almost like you're half naked." Kyle chuckled.  
"Look away. I gotta take off my damn jeans for a moment."  
"I've seen you without pants, Mike."  
"I know, I'm gonna be practically naked. Now look away!" Kyle turned around, so Michael could take off his jeans and ring them out in the river. The water made the denim heavy. He twisted the legs of his jeans to get out all the water he could before putting them back on. "Yeesh! This is uncomfortable." He threw on his jacket, so he wouldn't get cold. "Okay, you can look now."  
"Let's hope Rico doesn't throw you in again." Kyle laughed, picking up a paint can and shaking it.  
"If he throws me in again I'm taking him with me!" Michael picked up the color he had dropped. He walked back over to where his stuff was and began painting the bridge.  
Michael kept glancing over to see what his friends were doing. Every time he did, Kyle was looking at him and would look away embarrassed when Michael caught him staring. He grabbed Kyle's arm and pulled him out to the other side of the bridge. Michael leaned up against the side. Kyle leaned closer to him. "Why'd you pull me out here?"  
"You keep staring at me.."  
"Sorry.. I just.. keep zoning out."  
"It's fine. I know you're gay and all, but..." Michael lost his train of thought, due to what seemed to be the sound of a car pulling up. Kyle put his hand on Michael's shoulder and leaned in, going up on his toes. Before he got too close Michael pushed him back. "What the hell are you doing?" Kyle's eyes went wide with fear.  
"Wh-What? I thought that's why you pulled me away! I-I.." Kyle was interrupted by Alyssa screaming at them as she ran by.  
"Run!" Michael ran back under the bridge, ignoring Kyle who was now crying. When he ran back under he stepped directly into a light. There were a few police officers standing there. They had Rico in handcuffs. He dropped the paint can he was holding and booked it in the opposite direction. He could hear the cop's boots rustling the grass behind him. He could vaguely make out Alyssa running in front of him. He felt a hand grab his wrist, yanking him backwards. As he fell, he watched another officer run past him and after Alyssa. Didn't these officers have better things to do that arrest a bunch of kids? The officer pulled him to his feet by his arm. He yanked Michael's arms behind his back and held his wrists together. Michael was panting.  
"You and your friends think it's funny to vandalize a town monument? Huh?" The officer said.  
"It's just a bridge."  
"Don't get mouthy with me, kid." Michael winced as the officer slapped and tightened metal cuffs around his wrists. The officer chasing after Alyssa returned, gripping her shoulder. The officers walked Michael and Alyssa back to their police cars. They shoved the two into the back of the car. There was another car, where he assumed Kyle and Rico were. The officers got into the car. The one in the driver's side pulled up a walkie-talkie from his belt. "We've detained the teenagers who were vandalizing the bridge. The ones we saw while patrolling."  
"Detained?" Michael whispered to Alyssa. "We're both in handcuffs." Alyssa shushed him. The officer started the car and both cars drove off.  
"I thought nothing would happen tonight. Nothing ever happens here." The officer driving said.  
"Well, this isn't much." The female officer in the passenger seat responded. "Just kids messing around."  
"Kids messing up a monument." The male officer spat. The female officer sighed. Michael shifted in his seat. His jeans were still damp. His shirt and Kyle's shoes were still at the bridge. He started shaking his leg. There were two things that could happen; They'd all get thrown in jail or they'd be set free with a warning. He looked over at Alyssa, who was visibly afraid. He understood why. She was a black girl in the custody of police.  
A few minutes later, the two cop cars parked in the lot of the station. The cops pulled him and Alyssa out of the back. The cop in the other car dragged an unwilling Rico into the station while Kyle was shaking as he walked. The cops brought them into a small room with a couple empty cells. "We're not throwing you in here, yet. Sit down and wait." The officer who arrested Rico told them. He pulled out another pair of handcuffs and cuffed Rico to the bars of a cell. The officers sat everyone else down and left the room.  
"I fucking hate cops." Rico spat, thrashing around. "They only hate me, cause'a my family."  
"Rico, stop resisting. They could kill you." Alyssa pleaded.  
"They'll shoot me anyway! My brothers'll fuck 'em up." He grumbled. Alyssa sighed, putting her head down. Two officers returned. He had a notepad and pen.  
"Alright, you delinquents, I need your full names. Not you two, though." He pointed to Rico and Michael. Rico and his family had been in an infamous gang, known as the Sharks, for decades. Michael had been arrested for shoplifting cigarettes twice.  
"Kyle Jadwin." Kyle said, his voice shaking. Michael looked over at him; His eyes were still watering.  
"Alyssa Coleman, sir." Alyssa looked up, but avoided looking at the officer.  
"This is your first offence for the both of you. I'll have other officers take off your cuffs and you can call your parents." The officer that was with him, unlocked their handcuffs and took them out of the room. "You two on the other hand, have to stay." The officer got in Rico's face. "I know what you gang members are like, Nunez. I've dealt with your family since they moved here a decade ago. You keep this up, you'll end up like them, in prison." Rico stomped on the officers foot. The officer slapped Rico across the face. "You'll end up like them." The officer turned to Michael. "Now, Afton, a petty thief."  
"I was 12."  
"Still, a petty thief." The officer hoisted Michael up by his arms. "You and Nunez are the only troubled teenagers in this town. I don't want you two dragging those good kids down with you."  
"Stop being so dramatic. We didn't hurt anyone." Rico interrupted.  
"Keep your mouth shut, Nunez." The officer snapped. "Defacing a monument is a crime. You're lucky you're just teenagers. Otherwise, I'd have you both thrown in on spot." The officer pulled a small key out of his pocket. "For now, I'm sending you off with a warning." He unlocked Michael's handcuffs and walked over to Rico to do the same. Michael shook out his now free arms. The cuffs had made marks on his wrists. He knew the officer made them too tight. "Go call your parents." Michael and Rico left the room, into the main lobby.  
"I'm walking home." Rico swiftly walked out of the station.  
Michael turned to one of the pay phones and dug some change out of his pocket. He put a few quarters into the change slot and picked up the phone. He dialed the Emily's home phone number. He glanced at the clock; It was now 3:02 AM. He listened to the dial tone, hoping someone would pick up the phone. The dial tone was interrupted by someone on the other end picking up.  
"Hello?" It was Mr. Emily. He sounded wide awake. "Who is this?"  
"Mr. Emily, It's Michael." Emily gasped.  
"Michael! What happened? You've been missing for over a day! Where are you?" Emily exclaimed.  
"I just ran to my friend's house."  
"Where are you?"  
"I'm at the police station."  
"So they found you? Are you alright?"  
"They didn't find me. I was arrested.. for vandalizing a bridge." Michael bit on the inside of his lip.  
"Arrested? Michael.." Emily sounded more worried than disappointed. "Did they call you father?"  
"No. Why?"  
"I reported you missing and told them to call either of us if they found you." Michael blinked a few times.  
"They never told me I was missing." Emily sighed.  
"I'll be there shortly. Hold tight, kiddo. See you soon." Emily hung up on the other end. Michael placed the phone back on the receiver. He stood there, his jeans still too damp to sit down. Water dripped down his face from his hair.  
A short while later, the station door opened. Emily ran towards Michael and pulled him into a tight embrace. "Thank God, you're safe.." Emily put his hand on Michael's hair. He pulled away from the hug. "Your hair's wet. Why is it wet? Where's your shirt? And shoes?" Michael covered himself with his jacket.  
"I'm sorry for what I said, before I ran. And I fell into the river and left my clothes out to dry. The cops didn't pick them up when I was arrested." Emily hugged Michael again.  
"I don't care about what you said. I'm just glad you're not hurt. I was so worried about you, but the police never did anything to help." Michael rested his chin on Emily's shoulder.  
"I wouldn't have been hurt. I'm not a little kid." Emily pulled away from the hug and began to walk out of the station; Michael followed.  
"Just because you're not a little kid doesn't mean you can't be hurt."  
"I can defend myself. I always carry a switchblade with me." Emily stopped in his tracks and turned to face Michael.  
"Hurricane is more dangerous than you think, kid."


	7. Panic

Most of the short car ride to the Afton's home was silent; Michael broke the silence. "What do you mean Hurricane is more dangerous than I think? Nothing ever happens here. We got arrested for graffiti. Graffiti." He glanced over at Emily, who was keeping his eyes focused on the road. He looked angry.   
"Look, Michael, there's things you don't know about this town."   
"Then tell me. What's so dangerous about this place?"  
"I can't."  
"Why not?"  
"I just can't, Michael. You wouldn't understand it. You wouldn't be able to process it."   
"How the hell do you know that? I'm not a little kid anymore. I can understand shit now."   
Emily cut him off; His voice a mix of distress and rage. "BECAUSE I STILL HAVEN'T PROCESSED IT!" The car fell silent again. Michael could only hear Emily's heavy breathing. His breathing was quick and heavy. It scared Michael. Emily started shaking. Michael began to worry.   
"Mr. Emily?"   
Emily ignored him.  
They drove for about a minute before Emily suddenly pulled over on the side of the road. Michael looked over at him. He was trembling. He kept a firm grip on the steering wheel. Tears slid down Emily's cheeks. He put the car in park as his breath quickened. Michael didn't know what to do. He was always the one being comforted by the man who was watching break down in front of him. He didn't even know why this was happening.   
"Mr. Emily... are you okay? What's going on?" He had never seen Emily like this. He was always a positive person, but was now shaking and crying. Emily nodded in response to Michael's question.  
"I-I'm fine.. kid.." He struggled to get words out in between his breaths. "Just... just a little... spooked..." He tried to chuckle, but just took a deep shaky breath. Emily loudly tapped on the steering wheel. He bounced his leg. Michael reached over to put his hand on Emily's shoulder, trying to comfort him. His hand was slapped away. "Don't... don't touch me.." Michael placed his hand in his lap. He was afraid. He had no clue what was going on.  
"Then what can I do? I just want to help like you've helped me." Michael spoke softly. Emily shook his head. His breathing became more frequent. He put his head in between his arms.   
"Stop watching me!" Emily shouted. Michael turned away. He tried to ignore Emily's breathing, but it was difficult. He wanted to help, but it was clear Emily didn't want any. Michael wanted to hug him and comfort him like Emily had done for him. He didn't understand why Emily slapped his hand away. It didn't make any sense. Does he not want comfort? "I.. I'm.. sorry!" Emily took a deep breath. "I-I wish I was there to help!" Michael glanced at Emily. He was still shaking. Michael opened the car door and got out. He shut the door behind him and sat on the grass a few feet away. He had a feeling Emily wanted to be alone. Michael hugged his knees to his chest and buried his head in his knees.   
The quiet night was unsettling. Michael picked up his head. His eyes scanned the dark woods in front of him. Every now and then a car would pass by, spooking Michael. 

Michael wasn't sure how much time had passed when he felt a hand tap his shoulder. He looked up. It was Emily. He had calmed down. He was crouched in front of Michael. He let out a nervous chuckle, standing up. "Sorry about that, Mike. I get like that sometimes." Michael stood up.   
"What happened...?"   
"I had a panic attack... they happen sometimes. It's different than just being upset." Michael nodded. Emily chuckled. "Hope it didn't scare you." He ruffled Michael's hair. "Let's get you home." He stepped towards his car.  
"I don't wanna go home. My dad doesn't want me." Emily turned around, facing Michael again.  
"Course he wants you, bud. You're his son." Emily kept a soft smile.   
"Did you hear what he said? He doesn't think I'm actually his son. He hates me." Emily placed his hand on Michael's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.  
"No he doesn't. I've talked to him. He was just mad. He knows you;re his son. He was worried after you didn't come home the morning after you ran off. He'll be happy to see you." Michael pushed Emily's hand off his shoulder.   
"My dad's never happy to see me." Michael walked towards the car and opened the door. He sat down in the passenger seat. Emily got into the driver's seat. "Why couldn't you be my dad..?" Michael asked, looking at him. He sighed, starting the car.  
"Kid.. I don't know what answer you want, but I don't have one. You already have a dad. A dad who, whether you believe it or not, loves you, Michael."   
"Then why does he think there's something wrong with me?" He asked, mumbling.  
"Because he sees himself in you. He sees the issues he has in you and he doesn't want that for you. Neither of you would admit it, but... you two are very similar." Emily chuckled. "You and your father have both cried to me. He only did once, when your mother left." He paused for a moment. "Bet you miss her... don't you?" Michael shrugged. His mother left five years before, when he was ten. She gave no warning. It was that day their family really fell apart. His parents fought sometimes, but it was never that bad. He never expected his mom to leave.   
"How can I miss her when she left us like that? She didn't even bother coming to Lizzie's funeral! We called her so many times! I-I just want a parent who can actually be a parent!" Michael turned his head to the window. Emily sighed.   
"Your dad loves you, Michael. I do too." Emily reassured him. He turned on the radio and let music play quietly. Michael rested his chin in his hand. He stared at the passing scenery.   
  
A few minutes later, they pulled up into the Afton driveway. Emily turned down the radio. "You okay, kid?" Michael shrugged in response. "You ready to go inside?" He shrugged again. "Don't worry, I won't let him do anything to you." He squeezed Michael's shoulder. "Let's go, kiddo." Emily turned off the car and got out. Michael hesitantly followed him. They stood on the porch after Emily rang the doorbell. They didn't have to wait too long before the door was answered. Michael's father stood there. His face was illuminated by the porch light. His hair was messy and the bags under his eyes were obvious. "What do you need, Henry? It's 3:30 in the fucking morning."  
"I think you'll be happy to know that Michael's safe."   
"Where is he?"   
"Michael." Emily turned around to see Michael standing on the steps of the porch. He wanted to run. He wanted to run away and never come back. His dad stepped up to him and Wrapped his arms around Michael's shoulders. He held his head, ignoring that his hair was still damp. Michael shoved his father away.  
"Don't touch me." Michael crossed his arms in defense.   
"I'm sorry, Michael..."   
"You don't get to hug me and act like you care after what you said." He looked his father in the eye. Emily put his hand on William's shoulder.  
"I think he deserves more than an apology. You need to treat him with the kindness you give Chris." He turned to Michael.   
"You want to stay the night at his house, don't you?" William asked. Michael nodded in response. William grumbled. "Of course you do. Go ahead." He waved him away.  
"Will..."   
"No, it's fine. Let him stay the night at your house. He probably needs it."  
"No, he needs you to be a good father. He needs you. Go inside, Michael." He gestured towards the door with his head.   
Michael did as he said and walked passed the two. He ran upstairs. He went into the bathroom and dropped his clothes on the floor. He turned the shower on and waited for it to warm up. He stepped in and sighed. The warm water was comforting. He stood under the water for a moment, letting it run down his body. He needed this time to himself. He kept his eyes closed and breathed slowly, taking in the warm atmosphere of the shower. He didn't want to go to school later. He would have to go to school in a couple of hours. He opened his eyes and looked at himself. His arms were still covered in tiny scratches that Kyle had bandaged for him. Kyle... Kyle had tried to kiss him. It would've been Michael's first kiss. Kyle's lips up against his in the cold night air. No. Kyle can be gay, but Michael wasn't. He didn't want to kiss him, even if he still felt the kiss on his cheek Kyle gave him. He shook his head, his wet hair falling in front of his face. Michael unwrapped the bandage that was around his hand and wrist. He threw the bandage over the shower curtain. He looked at the cut at the soapy water stung it a bit. He finished washing himself and stepped out of the shower. He turned the handle. Michael ruffled his hair with a towel and then wrapped it around his waist. He picked up his clothes and made his way to his bedroom. He hung up his jacket and threw his jeans in a basket. He let himself fall onto his bed. Though he had only been away for a day, it felt like forever and it was nice to be in his own bed. He closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep in the comfort of his own room.


	8. Bad Dreams

Michael sat on his knees in front of his sister's grave. His jeans were soaked with water and mud. He shivered as the rain hit his head. He couldn't tell if the drops on his face were tears or rain. He kept his head down, his wet hair clinging to his face. He clenched his fists and pressed them to his legs. All he could hear and feel was the rain.  
The rain suddenly stopped above him, but he could still hear it. He looked up; Someone was kneeling next to him, holding the umbrella over him. Their face was blocked by the umbrella. They were wearing a simple red gown with a black overcoat and gloves. "Are you alright?" Their voice was feminine and smooth. It was familiar to him.   
"No.." Michael mumbled, looking back to Lizzie's grave.   
"Of course you're not." The person's tone changed completely. They sounded angry. The person stood up and began to walk away. Michael got up on his feet and watched the person walk away.   
"Wait!" He called after them, beginning to chase them. "Who are you?" The person turned around. "Mom..? Mom!" Her dyed brown hair was nicely curled and framed her face perfectly.  
"It's your fault, Michael." She said, no emotion in her voice. Michael stopped in his tracks.  
"What..?"  
"It's your fault our family fell apart!" She raised her voice. "No wonder your deadbeat father hates you!" Michael stepped back. "You're why I left." She turned around and continued to walk away. Michael chased after her again.  
"Mom! Mom!" He reached out to grab her arm. She disappeared and Michael woke up.

Michael opened his eyes. He was back in his bedroom. He sighed; It was only a dream. He glanced over at his alarm clock. It was four in the morning. It was Tuesday. He groaned, stretching a bit. He wasn't tired anymore. He sat up and got out of bed. He stretched out his arms and his back. He rebandaged his right arm when he woke up the previous morning. He ended up not going to school. He was shocked his father let him stay home. He opened the door into the hallway. A small light came from downstairs; His father was awake. His father was talking to someone, or maybe himself. There was no response to what he was saying. Michael made his way downstairs. He could hear his father clearly now. He was on the phone.  
"You know.. I miss how we were.." His father spoke in a soft tone. He hadn't noticed Michael come down the stairs. His father was standing at the counter with a cup of hot tea. "Like how we were in college." His father chuckled at the other's response. "I know we're not in college anymore! I just miss the relationship we had." He paused so the other could respond. "You know what aspects I miss.." His father looked up from his tea and spotted Michael standing on the stairs. He sighed. "Sorry, I have to go. Good night." He hung the phone up back on the receiver. His father set his mug down. "Michael, what are you doing awake?" Michael walked into the kitchen and over to the fridge.   
"Bad dream." He opened the fridge and grabbed a can of Coke.  
"Do you want to talk about it..?"   
"No." Michael popped open the can and took a sip. "Who was on the phone?"  
"No one." Michael nodded. His father picked his mug of tea up and took a sip. Silence filled the room. His father broke the silence after a few minutes. "How's school going?"  
"It's going.."  
"How's your hand?" His father asked, gesturing to Michael's bandaged arm.   
"It's fine. It bleeds sometimes. Why are you awake?"  
"I'm an insomniac, you know that." Michael looked up at his father, raising his eyebrow.  
"Since when?" Michael set his empty can down on the counter.   
"Since before you were born." He took a sip of his tea. "Henry always told me to drink tea to maybe help me sleep." He took another sip.  
"Does it work?" Michael asked, rinsing the can out in the sink.   
"Occasionally, do you want me to make you some?" Michael dropped his can in the basket they had for pop bottles and cans.   
"No, I don't like tea." Michael declined. His father chuckled.  
"What kind of Brit doesn't like tea?"   
"I'm not a Brit."  
"You're my son, and I'm British. I have an accent, Michael."   
Michael shrugged.  
"Your accent seems normal to me." His father rolled his eyes. He would often go back to the U.K. to visit family, so his accent never went away. Michael never really noticed his father's accent, until he went to school and no one had his father's British accent. Michael was teased in elementary school for having a little bit of an accent that he picked up from his father. As he grew up, Michael's accent faded to a standard American one.  
Silence fell over the room again. Michael rhythmically tapped his fingers on the counter, his nails clicking against the granite. He stared at the floor, following the spaces between the tiles. His father took a slow sip of his tea, clinking the mug on the countertop.   
"Mom." Michael said, without looking up.  
"What?"   
"My dream, mom was there."   
"You miss her, don't you?"   
"I don't know..." Michael shrugged, glancing up at his father. "She left us... Is it true?"  
"Huh?"  
"That mom had affairs?"  
His father sighed, taking a sip of his tea.  
"Yes. Your mother would often bring men over while I was working late at the pizzeria. I never confronted her about it, because I was afraid she would leave. Which... she did anyway." His father explained.  
"Did she ever tell you why?"   
His father shook his head. "No, but I have a feeling it has to do with me." He took a sip of his tea and brushed his hair out of his face. "I'm starting to think about what Henry said, about how you acted differently after your mother left... I guess I never noticed, because I never paid much attention to you when you were little. It's very telling when Henry noticed your change in behavior and I didn't. Henry told me that he thinks you and I are very similar."  
"He said the same to me, and that you see yourself in me." Michael looked up at his father. It felt strange for him to have a conversation like this with his father.  
"I suppose I do. You look just like me." His father took a photo off of the wall and looked at it for a moment, before hanging it back up. The photo was of his father's family when he was a kid. He and Michael looked the same.   
"Mr. Emily basically raised me." Michael blurted out.  
"What?"   
"He raised me when you weren't there. When mom left, he was always there. That's one thing I can give you. You never left us."   
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" His father asked, raising his voice slightly. Michael looked at his father. His eyebrows were furrowed. His eyes had gone from dull and tired to filled with rage.  
"I-I don't know! I don't know why I said that! I didn't mean it! I'm sorry!" Michael panicked and stuttered as he spoke. He put his hands out in front of him; They were trembling.  
"That's all you can give me? I give you a roof over your head, food on the table, and clothes on your back!" His father yelled, standing over him.  
"THAT'S YOUR JOB!" Michael screamed and instantly slapped his hands over his mouth. His father stared at him in shock. Michael let out a meek "I'm sorry" before scampering up the stairs like a scared animal.  
Once he reached his room, he slammed the door shut and locked it. He slid down the door, putting his face in his hands. He ran his hands through his hair and pulled at it. He stomped on the hardwood, grunting in anger. He buried his face in his knees.  
"Why did I say that? God, I'm so stupid!" He hugged his knees tightly to his chest. Michael didn't cry; He just sat there safely thinking behind his locked door. He slowly stood up, his legs shaking, and turned to look at himself in the mirror by his wardrobe. He was wearing a white t-shirt and a pair of comfortable shorts. He looked at the bandages on his arm. His hair was messy and hung just above his shoulders. He looked at his face. His eyes were the exact same as his father's, cold and blue. As he looked at himself, he started only seeing his father. He didn't want to be like him. He didn't want to be horrible to the people he loved. He grabbed a wrench that was next to a tool box on his desk. He swung the wrench as fast as he could, hitting the mirror with a crack. He hit it once more and a few pieces fell onto the floor. There was a faint knock at the door.  
"Mikey...?"   
It was Chris.   
"Go away."  
"I heard a loud noise.. Are you okay, Mikey?"   
"Go away!"   
"But what if you're hurt.. We have to tell daddy if you're hurt.." Michael groaned. He glanced around his room. He grabbed a Foxy the Pirate mask off of his wardrobe and put it on. He unlocked his bedroom door and swung it open.  
"I said, go away!" He shouted. Chris's eyes widened with fear. Tears welled in his brown eyes. He began to loudly cry. "Go!" He shooed him with his arm.  
"Michael!" He heard his father yell from downstairs. He slammed the door in Chris's face. He locked the door and cowered behind it. He listened as his father's footsteps became closer. "Michael, open the door!"  
"No! Leave me alone!" He dropped the wrench he was holding. He started choking on tears.  
"Open the door!"   
Michael began to cry just like his brother.  
"Go away!" He cried.   
"What the hell is wrong with you?"   
"I'm sorry!"   
Michael's breathing became much worse as he couldn't even take a pull breath. Was this a panic attack like Emily had had? He couldn't tell.  
"No you're not!"   
"I thought you changed!"  
His father didn't respond. Michael covered his mouth with his hand.  
"Are you crying?" His father asked, his voice slightly calmer. He hesitated, "Do you want to talk about it...?"  
"No! You're just gonna yell at me more!"  
"Michael, please I-"  
Michael interrupted him.  
"Leave me alone!" Michael buried his head into his knees and sobbed.   
His father stood at his door for a few minutes before walking away and leaving Michael to cry.


	9. Locked Doors

The room was quiet; only being filled with the sound of turning pages. It was a comfortable temperature, as he was able to wear a flannel over his t-shirt. Henry was finally able to relax at home after being on his feet all day. He was reading a book that was dimly lit by the lamp above him. As he was about to turn the page, the phone rang. He sighed, holding his thumb in between the pages. He reached over and picked the phone up off the receiver. Placing the phone up to his ear, he answered.  
"Henry Emily, who is this?"  
"It's William."   
Henry rolled his eyes.  
"We just saw each other less than an hour ago. What happened?"   
"It's Michael.." William said quietly, "He hasn't left his room in days. He's locked his door and placed something heavy in front of it."   
"He hasn't left at all?"  
"No, not once."  
"Do you know why?"   
"I yelled at him a few days ago and he hasn't left his room since. Henry sighed, pushing his glasses up.   
"What do you want me to do about this?"   
"Can you try to get him to come out of his room? Please, Henry, it's been days and he hasn't had anything to eat, and he listens to you." William pleaded.   
"Have you tried to get him to leave? Have you checked his window to see if he ran away?"   
"I did, but he won't listen to me. He's scared that I'll yell at him."   
Henry raised his voice. "Will, I can't keep taking care of your child for you. I have my own children to raise! Yes, I love Michael, but you need to be a better father." He took a breath. "I'll come and see if I can get him to come out, because he needs to eat... But you need to get your shit together. Goodbye." Henry hung up the phone aggressively. He pinched the bridge of his nose. He placed his bookmark between the pages and put the book on the coffee table. He got up from his chair and made his way down the hall to Charlie's room. He softly knocked on the painted wood.   
"Come in." Charlie called out. Henry opened the door, leaning against the doorframe.  
"Sweetheart, I'm going to head over to the Afton's for a little bit. Could you tell your brother when he gets out of the shower?" Charlie looked up from her school work.  
"How long will you be gone?"  
"Not too long. Don't open the door for anyone." Charlie rolled her eyes.   
"Okay, dad."  
"I mean it. I won't be gone too long. You know the Afton's number if anything happens. I'll be back." He shut his daughter's bedroom door. He sighed, not ready to deal with William.

Henry rang the doorbell. A few moments later a disheveled William answered the door.  
"Thank you, Henry. I'm worried about him." William said, letting Henry in. He made his way to the stairs and up to Michael's room. He tried to turn the doorknob; it was locked, obviously. He lifted up his fist and softly knocked on the door. He began to speak in a very soft voice.  
"Michael, it's Henry. Could you open the door, please?" He listened for any movement or mumbling. Nothing. He tried again. "Michael, sweetheart, could you please open the door? We're getting worried. You need to eat. It's not safe to go so long without eating." He glanced back at William, who was leaning against the opposite wall. "No one's going to yell at you. I promise. Just please come out." He paused to listen for movements. The floorboards creaked and something heavy was being pushed across the floor. The door knob clicked and the door was pulled back. In front of him stood a tired, sick-looking Michael. He looked up at Henry. His eyes were dull and cloudy. Henry felt his heart hurt. "May I come in?" Michael nodded, opening the door just enough to let him in. He shut the door behind Henry and stood in front of it.   
He glanced around Michael's room. It was messy. There was a broken full body mirror on the wall. The glass shards were all over the floor. He got another look at Michael. He had a large bruise on his leg. Had William hit him? Henry wasn't sure what to say. He held his arms open, giving the boy an empathetic smile. Michael shook his head, biting his lip. Henry put his arms down.  
"You said he changed..." Michael sniffled. "You lied to me!" Henry didn't say anything as the pain in his chest got worse. "How could you lie to me?" His voice started to break.   
"Honey, change takes a while... he can't just change overnight." He spoke in a soft, calming voice to hopefully get Michael to stop yelling.  
"He's had years to change!" Michael cried.  
"Sweetheart..."  
"I don't wanna be like him! I don't wanna scare people!" Michael breathed heavily, glancing into the broken mirror. "I don't wanna cry all the time."  
"You have to work on yourself, kiddo. Maybe therapy could help." Henry tried to keep a soft smile.  
"Therapy's for crazy people." Michael huffed.  
"No, it's not." Henry sat down on the edge of Michael's bed. "Come here." He said, patting the spot next to him. Michael hesitated with his first step. The floorboards creaked as he took the steps to get to the bed. He plopped himself down next to Henry, who wrapped his arm around his shoulder. Henry sighed, squeezing Michael's shoulder. "Would you like to stay at my house for awhile?" He nodded, keeping his head low. "Alright. I'll be right back." Henry brushed Michael's bangs out of the way and kissed his forehead.   
He stood up and made his way out of the room. William was leaning on the opposite wall. "Will," he looked up from the floor, "I think it'd be good if Michael stayed at my house for a few days. You two need some time apart to calm down."   
"Alright. I apologize for making you come over here."  
"Don't apologize to me, apologize to your son." Henry said. "Michael! Grab some stuff so we can go!" He called as he walked down the stairs.   
Only a few minutes later, Michael arrived downstairs. He had gotten dressed, but he still looked dirty. He had a backpack slung over his shoulder. Henry gave him a smile.  
"Let's go." Henry patted his shoulder, pushing him towards the door.

They had returned home. Henry was making dinner while Michael was in the shower. He was letting Michael stay in the guest room that was at the end of the hallway. Charlie and Sammy were playing cards and betting candy at the table.   
Henry stepped back from the boiling pot; he was cooking pasta as it was the only food he had enough of to feed all four of them.   
"Will one of you go check on Michael? He's been in the shower for a long time now." Henry asked his children. Charlie shot up from her spot at the table and hurried down the hallway. Charlie banged on the bathroom door and called for Michael.   
A few moments later, Charlie returned to the kitchen. She shrugged and took her seat at the table. With a sigh, Henry made his way over to the bathroom. He held his ear close to the door. The shower was still running. He knocked and listened. After getting no response, he knocked again.  
"Michael! Dinner's almost ready. You need to eat, it's been days!"   
The shower stopped.  
"I'll be out in a minute!" Michael responded. Henry let out a sigh of relief. 

Charlie and Sammy were sitting at the table. They had set aside the cards and candy for after dinner. They were already eating by the time Michael stepped into the kitchen. He looked a little better just from a shower, but he still looked exhausted.   
"I see you're alive." Henry joked. "Get some food." He gestured to the pot on the stove. Michael nodded. Henry turned back to his own food and his children. Michael took a seat at the table in between Sammy and Charlie.   
"Why is he here?" Charlie asked, pointing towards Michael who was picking at his pasta with a fork.  
"He's not getting along with his father. He'll be staying here for awhile." Henry answered.  
"How long?"  
"I'm not sure, sweetheart."  
Sammy groaned.  
"Great. I get to hear them argue more." He rolled his eyes.  
"Shut up, Sammy. It's not my fault Michael's mean."   
Michael spoke up.  
"Geez, I get it. I'm an asshole. You don't have to tell me every time you see me."  
"Guys, please." Henry pleaded. "Just eat your food, okay?"  
The kids nodded in response, all shooting glares at each other. Henry sighed.

By the time everyone had finished, Michael was still at the table. Henry was washing the dishes in the kitchen, keeping an eye on him. He set the last dish to dry and turned off the sink. Henry placed his hand on the kid's shoulder, startling him.   
"You okay, kid?"   
Michael shrugged.  
"You don't have to finish your food. Your appetite's probably messed up a little anyway." He nodded in response, taking his bowl to the sink.   
Just then, the phone rang. Henry walked over to the phone and picked it up off of the receiver that was on the coffee table. "Hello, Henry Emily speaking. Who is this?" Henry said in his customer service voice.  
"Hi, um, this is Kyle, Kyle Jawdin." The boy on the other end responded. "Is Michael Afton there?"  
"Yeah, he's here.. But how'd you know?"  
"Uhh, I called his house and his dad gave me this number."   
Henry nodded. "Alright, let me get Michael." He covered the bottom speaker on the phone with his hand. "Michael, your friend Kyle is on the phone for you." His eyes widened; he looked nervous.


	10. Phone Calls

Michael took a deep breath before speaking into the phone. "Hello."  
"Hey, Mikey-Michael, sorry." He laughed. "I just wanted to check up on you... you haven't been to school all week. Are you okay?" Kyle asked.  
"I'm fine, just family stuff." Michael deadpanned.  
"That's good. Good to hear that you're okay. How's the cut on your hand? Is it getting better?"   
"Yeah, it's good. How's your wrist?"  
"It doesn't hurt anymore. The doctor said I should be able to get the cast off soon."  
"Good..."  
There was a silence between them for a few moments. Michael started zoning out until Kyle spoke again.  
"I, uh, I wanted to apologize for trying to kiss you by the bridge..." Kyle's voice was low. Michael still couldn't process his best friend trying to kiss him. "I understand if you don't want to be friends with me anymore..." Michael had almost completely forgotten about what happened by the bridge. He had been focused on the issues with his father that if Kyle hadn't brought it up he wouldn't have thought about it.  
"It's fine, just don't do it again." That's all Michael had to say. That's all he could say. Was he supposed to tell Kyle that he kind of wanted it to happen? No. Michael didn't want them to kiss. Michael just wanted his first kiss.  
"I don't want things to be awkward, ya know?"  
"It won't be. I'll probably forget about it tomorrow." He lied.   
"Okay... um... Do you want me to come by your window and visit you? I think you could use a friend right now." Michael could hear the smile in his friend's voice.   
"I'd rather be alone right now."  
"Oh... Are you sure? You've been alone all week."   
An idea popped in his head. Michael glanced around the room, making sure Emily wasn't there anymore. "If you buy me cigarettes."   
"I don't have any money."  
"Steal from your mother."   
"No way! Are you nuts she'll kill me?" Kyle protested. Michael laughed, taking his ear away from the phone as Kyle shouted. "Are you laughing at me?"   
"Yeah."   
"You're such a dick."   
"Oh yeah? Then why'd you try to kiss me?" Michael teased. There was a click on the other end. Kyle hung up. He would never forget about it. With a grunt, he slammed the phone back on the receiver. He angrily walked back to the room he was staying in, swearing under his breath.  
He threw himself on the bed that was in the middle of the plan room. The bed was old, but comfortable. He rested his hand on his stomach.   
"Why do I have to be such an asshole?" He sat up a bit and reached for the phone that was on the nightstand. He picked up the phone and dialed Kyle's home phone number. Kyle was quick to pick up.  
"Hello? Who is this?"  
"Kyle! It's Michael." Kyle groaned. "I'm sorry for being such a dick... really." Kyle didn't respond. Michael imagined he was rolling his eyes at his apology. "Seriously, I'm sorry this time."  
"This time? What about the other times you "apologized" to me? Did you not mean those?" His voice was breaking a bit as he spoke. "I don't know what you're trying to do, but you keep making me believe that you're actually sorry when you fuck up, but you always continue to fuck up in the same way." He sighed. "I can't believe I'm in love with you.."   
Michael's heart skipped a beat. Why was he so excited to hear that?  
"Wait... you're in love with me...?"  
"Yeah, dumbass. If it wasn't obvious already. And I hate it because you're such an asshole!"   
"Kyle..."  
"No, Michael. I don't want to hear you apologize for the millionth time and then never change. I-I don't think we can be friends anymore... goodbye."  
"Wait-" He was cut off by the line clicking. Kyle had hung up on him. Michael slowly set the phone down on the receiver. It felt as if his heart had broken into a million pieces. He was in love with his best friend, and he lost him.

Kyle placed the phone back onto the receiver. Tears spilled out of his eyes. He covered his mouth to muffle his sobs. Michael had been Kyle's best friend and his first crush, but he was mean. Kyle wanted to be friends with Michael; he wanted more. He pulled a blanket into his lap and sobbed into it. Why was he so awful? All he wanted to do was check up on Michael, not get his heart broken. He wanted Michael to change, but he knew he couldn't force him to.   
Kyle got up from his bed, carrying the blanket with him, and walked over to his window. He unlocked the window and shoved it open. He hopped out of the window and sat against the side of his house. He wrapped himself in the blanket and buried his face in his knees.


	11. First Kiss

Michael was walking home from school, his leather jacket thrown over his shoulder. It had gotten too warm to actually wear the jacket, but he had grown attached to it. He walked past his father's restaurant. It was fairly busy, about half of the parking lot was filled. He noticed one the cars was Rico's beat up 1981 Dodge. He turned into the parking lot.   
Once he got closer, he noticed Rico spray painting the side of the building. Michael jogged up to his friend.  
"Can't go one day without committing a crime, can you, Rico?" He teased. Rico's free hand jolted to his pocket. Michael chuckled. "Chill out, man, it's just me." Rico sighed, turning back to the wall.   
"What do you want, Michael?"   
"I just saw your car in the lot and thought I'd stop by on my way home." He said, tossing his backpack on the concrete.  
"Don't snitch me out to your father." Rico said, taking a step back to look at his graffiti.  
"You're mental if you think I'll willingly speak to my father." Rico rolled his eyes. "Where are Alyssa and Kyle?"  
"Something to do with marching band..." Rico looked over at Michael from his graffiti. "Speaking of Kyle... what's with you two? You have some sort of dramatic break up?"   
"Yeah... I guess you could put it like that." Michael shrugged.   
"Damn, didn't know you swung that way, Michael." Rico laughed.  
Michael flushed.  
"What? I-it's not like that! We just had a dramatic... friend break up..."  
"I don't care if you're gay. You two just need to make up already. It's already getting awkward."   
"I don't think he wants to. He doesn't want to be friends with me."  
"Tough," was all Rico said, turning back to the wall. Michael sat down on the concrete, watching Rico. Rico was swift with each movement of the spray paint. The paint went exactly where he wanted it to go. Michael rested his chin in the palm of his hand, mesmerized with Rico's art. "Stop watching me."   
"Then have a conversation with me, Fearless Leader."   
"Don't call me that." He spat. "What do you want to talk about?"  
"Girls." Michael smirked, standing up. "Since you and Alyssa are on a break, who are you lookin' at?"   
"No one, not until Alyssa decides we're just gonna stay friends." Rick shook the can he was holding. "Besides, girls are afraid of me."   
"Good luck then." Michael laughed. Rico turned around.  
"Dumbass, they're afraid of you too. You're associated with me." He knocked on Michael's head with the back of his hand. "You're still a loser in the eyes of the popular kids." He put air quotes around 'popular kids' with his fingers. Michael knew Rico didn't care what anyone else thought of him, but Michael didn't want to be seen as a loser.   
"What do you mean I'm a loser?" His voice grew louder.   
"Not to me, but to other people. They think your tough act is to hide the fact you're just some virgin." Rico went back to his art.  
"I just turned 15 a few weeks ago." Michael crossed his arms, leaning on a dry part of the wall.  
"You haven't kissed anyone, have you Michael?"  
"No." Michael huffed. "I don't see a problem with that."  
"I don't either, but you're letting what those airheads say get to you."  
"No, I'm not! They can think I'm a loser for not doing anything with anyone, but I'm fine with that. It would be nice to not be a loser though.." Michael stepped back from the wall, digging one of his shoes into the gravel. He didn't want his anger to explode in front of his friend.   
"See? You're letting it get to you."  
"No, I'm not. I just don't wanna be a loser." He huffed.  
Rico glanced at his feet, then to his face. He smirked. Michael glanced over his shoulder, assuming Rico had spotted someone else. He instead set down his paint can.  
"I can help you with that." He said, pushing the cap back on the can until it clicked.   
"What?"   
Rico shoved Michael against the brick by his shoulders. Michael threw his arms against the wall. His eyes widened and stared directly at his friend who had him pinned to the wall. Rico rested his forearm on the wall next to Michael's head; he slipped his other hand to Michael's hip.   
"I can help you with being a loser who hasn't had his first kiss yet. If you want me to." Michael's face became red. The two boys had their noses touching. Michael could feel his friend's breath on his lips.  
"Well, I was saving it for someone specif-" He was cut off by Rico's lips pressing onto his own. Michael panicked in his mind; did he kiss back or shove Rico away? He wanted to shove Rico, but his hunger for affection overpowered this. Michael held his hands out a bit, not sure where to put them. Rico grabbed Michael's wrists and placed them onto his shoulders. Michael slipped his hands around to the back of Rico's neck. Rico's hand slid up to Michael's waist. His other hand was placed on his jaw, pushing up his cheek a bit. He shivered, feeling Rico's cold hand slip up his shirt. Rico lightly tapped his fingers on the back of his neck. The kiss wasn't as gentle as Michael wanted his first kiss to be, but he needed it. His lips tried to keep up with Rico's. He was the slightest bit worried that Rico would out him, but that was drowned out by his new desire to kiss him.   
"What if... what if we get caught?" Michael asked in between kisses.  
Rico disconnected their lips and took a few breaths before speaking.  
"Don't worry about it. No one ever comes back here." Rico assured. He kissed Michael again, as rough as the first, barely giving Michael time to catch his breath. He pressed his body to the wall with more force, causing Michael to pull Rico's body against his own. He focused a lot of his attention on Michael's bottom lip. Michael wasn't sure why, but he liked it. Rico's hands grabbed Michael's hips, keeping him pinned to the walls. He tangled his fingers in Rico's black hair.   
He felt Rico lick his bottom lip, causing him to laugh. Rico's lips curved into a smile. He began using tongue in their kiss. Michael tried to follow, but accidentally bit Rico's tongue.   
"Ow!" Rico winced, pulling away for a moment.  
"Sorry." Michael chuckled, initiating another kiss. He received a small bite on his lower lip. He couldn't tell if it was payback for biting his tongue or just something people did while they kissed. Michael had his upper arms rested on Rico's shoulders, forcing their bodies closer together. He was gripping Rico's hair, tugging on it, and running his fingers through it. Rico's hands were still on Michael's hips, but he was now rubbing circles into his hip bone. Michael shivered the first time their tongues touched. He never thought he would've experienced French kissing so young, especially not with Rico. He bit Rico's lower lip just as he pulled away. Michael looked away and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.   
"Let's pretend that never happened." Michael began breathing heavily.  
"Whatever you say, but don't be a stranger if you wanna do it again." Rico taunted him with a lingering kiss. He let go of Michael's hips, which for sure had some mark on them from Rico's tight grip, and walked over to his paint cans to pick them up. He put them in his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. "See ya, babe." He said, walking off to his car.   
Michael felt his face grow hot. He ran up to his friend after grabbing his stuff.   
"Can you drive me home?"  
Rico glanced over his shoulder. He was putting his things away in the back seat.  
"Sure. Get in."  
Michael opened the passenger door and placed his backpack and jacket on the seat. He shut the door just as Rico turned around to get to the driver's seat. Without thinking, Michael shoved Rico onto the seats and got on top of him. Rico's surprised expression turned into a smirk.   
"Look at you, coming back for more."   
"Shut up." Michael grabbed Rico's face and pressed their lips together. He only got a few kisses in before Rico stopped him.   
"At least shut the door."  
Michael turned around and leaned back. He reached for the door and shut it. Rico grabbed the collar of Michael's shirt and pulled him down. Michael cradled Rico's face in his hands and kissed him. Rico placed his hands in the crooks of Michael's legs, gripping the bottom of his lower thighs. Michael followed Rico's lead as he bit on his lower lip. Michael stroked his cheek with his thumb. His other hand travelled to Rico's chest. Rico ran his hand up to the back of Michael's thigh and underneath his shirt that had become untucked. He ran his fingers up and down the small of Michael's back. His fingers were cold at first, but he soon got used to the temperature. Rico gripped Michael's side, squishing the fat and muscle near his stomach. Michale grabbed Rico's chest in a similar manner. Rico was thin. He wasn't muscular, but was naturally strong.   
"You're grabbing my tit."  
Michael laughed, pulling away from the kiss.  
"As if you have any."   
Rico grabbed at Michael's chest. Both of their faces grew red.  
"You work out?" Rico asked, keeping his hand on Michael's chest. He tore Rico's hand from his chest.   
"Shut up."   
Michael kissed him again. He imagined he was kissing Kyle instead of Rico. He instantly sat up, pulling away.   
Rico propped himself up on his elbow.   
"What's the matter?"  
"I like Kyle." Michael blurted out.  
"Why're you kissin' me then?"   
"He hates me."   
Rico put his hand on Michael's shoulder.   
"Do you wanna stop?"   
"Yeah." Michael choked out, getting off of his friend's lap.   
Rico got up and climbed up to the front seat to the back. Michael stepped out of the car and back into the passenger's seat. He sat silently, with his backpack in his lap, for the entire ride.


	12. Like Father Like Son

Michael stepped up onto the porch, escaping the sunlight that was harsh on his pale skin. He pushed on the doorbell, listening to it ring throughout the house. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. Summer was rearing it's scolding head. Soon, Charlie answered the door.   
"Why are you home so late?" She asked, letting Michael in.   
"None of your business." He dismissed her and started walking towards the guest room.   
"Chris is visiting when he's done with school" She called down the hallway. He stuck his arm up and gave her a thumbs up.   
He stepped into the room, tossing his backpack and jacket on the bed. He dug through his backpack for an old spiral notebook and a pen out of his bag. He threw himself on the bed. He started to scribble away his feelings in the form of doodles; doodles of him and Kyle, were now joined by doodles of him and Rico. He didn't have the same feelings for Rico that he did for Kyle. He had a crush on Kyle, but it was almost impossible for him to admit. Thanks to Rico, he could stop lying to himself.   
Michael scribbled a bunch of quick doodles of him and Kyle. No matter what happened, Kyle still made him happy and it was fucking with him that Kyle refused to even acknowledge him. If anyone saw these doodles, he'd be dead.  
Not too long after there was a tiny knock at his door. He grumbled.  
"Come in."   
The door slowly opened. He could see his little brother out of the corner of his eye, holding his stupid teddy bear.  
"Hi Mikey! What are you doing?" Chris asked.   
"Nothing. Go away."   
"Why are you always drawing in that notebook?" Chris went up on his toes to try and peak at what Michael was drawing. Michael snapped his head in Chris's direction and pulled the notebook to his chest.   
"Fuck off or I'll cut the head off the stupid fucking bear!" He shouted. Chris moved the bear away from his brother, hugging it tightly. His eyes watered and tears dripped down his face.  
"Y-you're so mean, Mikey!" He cried, running out of the room. Michael rolled his eyes, turning back to his notebook. He felt a little better after yelling. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to slowly breathe. His thoughts of Kyle not wanting to speak to him made him angry. He made a fist with his hand, bending his pen in the process.   
"God dammit!" He grumbled, chucking his pen at the wall. The pen created a small black mark on the wall where it made contact. Michae groaned, getting up from his bed and going over to the wall. He licked his thumb and wiped it over the pen mark. There was a heavy knock on his door. He had quickly picked up how the Emily family members footsteps and knocks sounded; it was Emily. "What?" He called, trying to rub out the mark.   
"Can I talk to you for a minute?" Michael picked up the pen and scrambled back to his bed.  
"Yeah, sure." He sat back comfortably in his bed. The doorknob turned and the door was pushed open. Emily stepped into the room.  
"You alright, kid? I heard you yelling and Chris is crying again."  
"He was trying to peak at my stuff after I told him to go away." He closed his notebook. Emily sighed, sitting at the foot of the bed.   
"So, you yelled at him."  
"Yes."  
"What did I tell you about yelling at younger kids?"   
"I can't help it! It just happens!" Michael threw his arms up as a defense of some sort. "I just get angry and I can't hold back."   
"You need to work on other methods of controlling your anger, Michael. I don't want you ending up like your father."   
"I-I... I'm not gonna end up like my father! He's an asshole!" Michael began raising his voice.   
"I know, Michael. I know, but you and your father have similar issues. You both blow up at the slightest inconvenience. I don't want you scaring away people that you love." Emily adjusted his glasses.   
"It's too late. I'm already scaring people away." Michael brought his knees closer to him.  
"What do you mean, bud?" Emily placed his hand on Michael's shoulder. He knocked Emily's hand off his shoulder.  
"I really don't want to talk about it."  
"Are you sure?"  
"I don't want to talk about it." Michael said, staring at his feet.  
"Alright, do you want me to leave me alone?" Emily asked, tilting his head into Michael's peripheral vision. He didn't respond. "Dinner will be ready at seven. I'll talk to Chris for you." He gave Michael a pat on the shoulder and quietly left the room.   
He opened up his notebook, staring at his doodles. He shook his pen between his fingers, tapping the end of it on his chin. He scribbled over the doodles. He mumbled nonsense to himself and tossed the notebook and pen towards the edge of the bed. He pulled his knees up to his chest. He looked out the window, watching the wind blow the foliage around. He hoisted the window open a bit to let in the breeze. He watched as younger kids played out in the streets.  
He rested his head on the window sill. "I am like my dad..."

Michael left the bathroom after a much needed shower, towel around his waist. He noticed light streaming out of a small crack in his doorway.   
"I swear I shut my door." He mumbled to himself. Swinging the door open, Michael stomped into the room. "Chris!" He shouted, causing Chris to spin around, fear struck in his eyes. He was holding onto Michael's notebook. "What the hell are you doing?"  
"I-I was looking for something.." Michael stomped over and snatched the notebook out of his brother's hands.   
"I don't have any of your stuff. Get out of my room!" He pushed on his brother's chest, causing him to stumble backwards.   
"I'm gonna tell daddy about you drawing those boys!" Chris cried, pointing his finger at the notebook. Michael threw the notebook down onto his bed.   
"I said get out of my room, you little bastard!" He shoved Chris into the hallway and slammed the door in his face. Chris's cries were muffled as he ran down the hallway. Michael took a moment to slow down his breathing. He balled his hand into a fist, digging his nails into his palm. "God... damnit!" He kicked the bed frame. He stepped over to the bag he had packed and rummaged for clothes to wear.   
As he was changing, there was a knock at the door. Michael reached over and turned the lock on the doorknob.   
"Michael. Unlock the door please." Emily said softly.  
"No." Michael responded as he pushed back his bangs, staring at his face. He could only see his father. "I'm tired of being like my father."  
"Michael, please." Emily pleaded, jiggling the locked doorknob. Michael slammed his fist onto the mirror as hard as he could, pushing the hooks it was hanging on further into the drywall.   
"I'm not like you, you bastard!" Michael yelled, kicking the mirror and making a loud bang.  
"Michael, open this door right now. I don't want to raise my voice at you."   
"I hate you!" He shouted at himself in the mirror. He grabbed a pair of scissors out of his backpack and held the open blades to his hair. He cut off some of the hair on the sides of his head. He was shaping his hair into a mullet, something his father never let him do. "I don't have to listen to you anymore." He mumbled as he finished cutting his hair.  
"Michael!" Emily shouted, knocking on the door. Michael dropped the scissors and pushed himself up off of the floor. He grabbed his jacket and threw it over his shoulder. He unlocked the doorknob and pulled it open.   
Emily was standing in the hall. He raised an eyebrow as soon as his eyes landed and Michael's hair. "What-"  
"I gave myself a mullet." He interrupted, pushing past him. He stepped into the kitchen. "He never let me."   
Emily followed him. "Where are you going?"   
"Out." Michael responded, swiftly leaving.   
The cool night air sting his bare arms. He slipped on his leather jacket. It was fairly cold out for the end of May. It didn't bother Michael. He wouldn't be outside long. He was looking for Rico. He was always in the same spot by the bridge they were at a few weeks prior.  
As expected, Michael spotted Rico's car parked near the river. He quickened his pace once the car was in sight. His knock on the car window caused Rico to jump out of his seat.   
"What do you want?" Rico grumbled after rolling down the window.   
"I wanna talk to my friend."  
"Yeah, talk." He chuckled, unlocking the car. "Get in asshole."   
Michael sat down in the passenger seat. He plucked Rico's cigarette out of his mouth, placing it between his own lips.   
"You suck."   
"I know." Michael laughed, taking a drag of the cigarette. He let the smoke escape his lips as he connected Rico's with his own.


	13. The Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Blood

It was Chris's birthday and the air in the Pizzeria was filled with the laughter and screams of young children. It was more lively than it had been in the past few weeks. Children crowded the stage at which the two golden animatronics stood. The arcade games added to the noise of the pizzeria. There were a group of preteens climbing up the ski ball games and dropping the balls in instead of actually playing. Annoyed teenage workers answered dumb questions from kids and adults alike. Parents of the children sat at the booth tables and chatted over pop and pizza. Michael, Rico, and Alyssa were searching for Chris, who had run off about a half an hour before.  
Michael peaked under a table in the corner and groaned.   
"I can't find Chris anywhere."  
"Maybe he went outside." Alyssa suggested, leaning against the table.   
"I doubt it. He's too scared to go out by himself." Michael sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Alyssa tapped her foot against the carpet.  
"We could try that room safe room." Rico chimed in, pointing behind his shoulder to the back hallway.   
"Yeah, I guess so." Michael said, stepping in the direction of the hallway with his friends following behind him.   
None of the kids or parents seemed to be concerned that the birthday boy had disappeared. Emily was the only one who noticed and asked the teens to look.   
Michael shoved open the heavy metal door that read 'Employees Only'.   
"Hey! You kids can't go back there!"   
The trio turned around to see a college age employee. He was crossing his arms over his chest. He had a badge on his purple button-up shirt. It had his name 'Devin' and 'Assistant Manager' on it.   
"Are you kids deaf or something? I said you can't go back there."   
"Look, Devin, we're looking for my brother. You know, Chris Afton, the son of your boss. Henry Emily, your other boss, sent us to look for him. I'm pretty sure we can go in here."   
"What about 'employees only' do you not understand?"   
Emily walked up behind Devin, placing his hand on his shoulder.   
"Is there a problem over here?"   
"Just these kids trying-"  
"These kids are fine. That's William's son and his friends. Don't go bothering them, Devin." Emily said, patting Devin's shoulder. He nodded at Michael and left the area.   
Michael stuck his tongue out. Devin grumbled and walked away.   
"Well, isn't he fun." Michael laughed.  
"Michael, don't be immature." Alyssa said.   
The trio walked into the hallway. After shutting the door, it was much darker than the rest of the building. "Ya know," Michael began, "I was thinking we give Chris a good scare today. He's been snooping around my stuff and I don't want him telling my dad."   
"What kind of stuff?" Alyssa asked as she ran her hand along the indents in the wall.   
"Oh I know." Rico teased, smirking.   
"Shut up, Rico! You don't know anything!" Michael shouted, elbowing him in the side. His face felt hot. He was glad it was dark; his friends couldn't see how flustered he was.   
"The backseat of my car says otherwise." He chuckled, pulling Michael to his body by his hips. Michael stomped on Rico's foot. Rico let go of his hips, and let out a groan of pain. He pulled the Foxy the Pirate mask he had on his head over his face.   
"Will you guys quit it?" Alyssa shouted, slapping both of their arms. Michael stopped in his tracks, causing Rico and Alyssa to bump into him.   
"Here's the safe room." He put his ear up to the door, hoping to hear his brother. There was another voice in there with Chris. Michael didn't recognize it.   
"What do you mean? Daddy's not bad..." Chris's voice was muffled. "I bet he's looking for me right now."   
"Do you hear anything?" Alyssa whispered.  
"He's talking to someone." He continued listening for a few moments. Michael turned the rusted door knob and pushed the door open. He slid the mask up to the top of his head and flicked on the lights. "Who are you talking to?"   
Chris tilted his head up from his Fredbear plush. His eyes were puffy and his cheeks were stained with tears. He dug his face into Fredbear. "Nobody. Where's daddy?" He squeezed his bear.   
"In his office."  
"Was he looking for me?"   
"Yes, then he sent us to look for you." Michael lied. His father was too busy in his office to notice Chris ran off.   
Alyssa snuck past Michael.   
"What happened? Why were you in here, with all of the lights off? " She asked in a soft voice. She glanced around the room. There were animatronic heads and parts scattered all around the room. "It's so creepy."   
Chris lifted up his bear. There was a rip in the arm stitching. "Some meanie tried to take Fredbear from me." He pulled his bear back into his chest. "I can't reach the light switch..."  
Michael snickered. Alyssa shot him a deadly glare.  
She held out her hand. "Come on, we can find someone to fix him." Chris took her hand. They stood up together and exited the safe room. The door shut behind them.  
"Well, it's just you," Rico inched closer to Michael, "and me."   
"And these creepy robot parts." Michael patted Rico's head. "Better luck next time." He turned on his heels and walked out of the room. Rico groaned and followed him. 

"So, what's your plan?" Rico asked, taking a sip of his drink.  
"I was thinking we hold him up to Fredbear; he hates the animatronics so much. It'll scare him shitless." Michael chuckled.  
Rico mixed his drink with the straw. "Put his head in the bears mouth."   
Michael laughed.   
"That'll scare the absolute shit out of him." He took a sip of his drink, glancing over at the stage with the animatronics.   
"You guys are assholes." Alyssa said. "You better not hurt him."   
"Oh, I won't."  
All of the younger kids crowded the stage as the animatronics performed their songs. Chris sat at a table by himself. He was playing with his bear. "Let's go." Michael stood up from the table and slipped the mask on over his face. Rico did the same.  
"I'm not coming." Alyssa protested.  
Michael approached the table and scooped up his little brother from the chair. Chris looked up at Michael with wide eyes.   
"Put me down!" He squealed and squeezed his Fredbear, hiding his face in it. Michael pushed through the crowd of kids. When he reached the stage, he hopped up onto it. He glanced down. Rico stood at the crowd.   
"Say hello to Fredbear." Michael hoisted Chris up by his legs, forcing him to look at the animatronic.   
Chris started kicking Michael and punching the bear's nose. "Put me down!" He cried again. Michael held Chris as closely as possible to the bear's mouth.   
"Only if you don't tell dad about my notebook."   
"Okay! I wo-"   
A loud crack rang throughout the Pizzeria. Blood splattered and seeped out of the animatronics mouth. Michael's face and hands were covered in his brother's blood. Time stopped for a moment, leaving Michael to stare at his crime. His ears rang and could barely hear the crowd of kids and adults screaming. Michael stood there, up on the stage, completely horrified.   
Within a few moments, what he had done hit him and he snapped out of his trance. "CHRIS!" Michael threw off his mask and carefully pulled his injured brother out of danger. He sat on the edge of the stage, cradling his brother in his arms. Blood dripped out of his brother's wounds and soaked into his clothes. "Chris, come on! Can you hear me?" Tears soon clouded his vision. He turned his head to Rico. "Get my dad!"   
Before Rico was able to leave the room, his father entered. "What the hell have you done?" His father yelled.   
"I-I was just trying to scare him! I didn't mean to hurt him! I swear!" Michael cried, looking up at his father who wore a darkened expression. Chris was ripped from his arms and he was met with a firm slap on the cheek. Michael held his hand up to his cheek. His skin stung. He bore the same scared expression Chris had just a few moments ago.   
There was an unusual first rage in his father's cold eyes. "I don't need to hear it from you!" His father turned around and left the room carrying Chris.  
"Are you okay?" Rico asked, sitting down next to Michael. He couldn't bring himself to speak and only shook his head. Rico wrapped his arm around Michael's shoulder.   
Alyssa came running towards them; Emily followed shortly behind. "What happened? I heard screaming. Oh my god! Michael! You're covered in blood! Are you hurt?" She asked frantically. She cupped his face and turned it from side to side.  
"He's not hurt. Chris is." Rico answered.   
"Michael, what happened?" Emily asked calmly.  
"Mike wanted to play a prank on Chris, and that clearly didn't go well." Rico explained, rubbing Michael's shoulder.   
She covered her mouth. "Oh my god..." She picked up Chris's bear off the stage. It had a few spots of blood. "I hope he turns out okay..." She said softly, placing the bear in Michael's lap. She wrapped her arms around him, not caring that he was covered in blood. Michael returned the hug. "Don't worry, Michael..."  
"You kids should probably get home soon." Rico and Alyssa looked up at Emily. "You can stay and comfort Michael for a little while, but we're gonna have to close down the restaurant soon." They both nodded. Emily ruffled Michael's hair and left the room. The pizzeria had been deserted. 

Hours later, Michael sat on the stage, leaning against the wall. Chris and his father had left for the hospital hours ago. He stayed with Emily who had to stay while police investigated. They had questioned Michael, but he wasn't up for talking. The officer who arrested him at the bridge was there, and kept giving him dirty looks. The police dubbed the animatronics and springlock suits too unsafe for people. New, safer animatronics had to be made by the end of September or the pizzeria would be shut down for good. It would be closed temporarily if they made the deadline.   
He was mostly cleaned of blood. Emily forced him to clean up and gave him his flannel to wear. Michael was playing with Chris's bear. As Emily entered the room, Michael looked up at him.   
"Can we go see him?"   
"Probably not until tomorrow. He has to get surgery immediately and I'm not sure how long it could take." Emily sighed. "You could pack him a bag of some things, like his favorite comic books. And we could get his bear cleaned up to bring it to him." He made the gesture with his head to follow him. Michael jumped up from the stage and followed. "Your cheek has a red mark on it, what happened? You didn't get hurt too, did you?"  
Michael took a deep breath.   
"My dad hit me."  
"He what?" Emily stopped and turned around. "William hit you?" His voice had raised and tone changed.   
"It didn't hurt that much."  
"It doesn't matter if it didn't hurt that badly. That bastard knows never to lay a hand on his children." Emily huffed and began walking again. "He has this coming."


	14. Hospital Visit

He kept his hands in his pockets as they walked down the white hallway of the children's hospital. Michael closed his eyes for a few seconds. The beeps from the machines were so noisy they caused Michael's head to hurt. He only opened his eyes when he nearly stumbled over his own feet.   
Emily stopped walking and softly knocked on the door that matched the number on the slip of paper he was carrying. There was no response. As quietly as possible, he pushed open the door. Chris was laying in a hospital bed. He was all bandaged up and hooked to more beeping machines. Michael sighed, squeezing the bridge of his nose. Emily shut the door and stopped just before Chris's bed, as if he were in shock.   
Michael was too exhausted to process what he was looking at. The guilt kept him awake the whole of the previous night. He hadn't even changed clothes.   
Sitting in one of the chairs, was his father. He was asleep with his elbow on the arm of the chair and his cheek in his palm. He looked a lot different when he slept; he looked calm. His hair was a mess, his shirt particularly undone, and his tie was hung around his neck untied. He seemed more human when he slept, less perfect.  
Michael pulled a chair up next to Chris's bed. He plopped the bag down and zipped it open. Inside was his Fredbear plush, that he had washed when he couldn't sleep the previous night, a few of his favorite comic books, and Skittles, his favorite candy. He placed the Fredbear plush next to him. He looked at the rip in the plushie that had been restitched and then at his brother. Chris's head was wrapped in bandages. The majority of his face was covered. How could he have done this to his own brother? How horrible was he? Was he really like his father? Even his father wouldn't do something this awful.  
"Michael." Emily interrupted his thoughts. "I know this is hard for you, but please don't blame yourself for this."   
"But this is my fault!" He cried.   
Emily softly shushed him.  
"You didn't mean for this to happen."   
"When he wakes up," he pointed to his father, "he's just gonna start yelling at me again, but this time I deserve it!"   
Emily firmly grabbed Michael's shoulders.  
"You don't deserve it. You need some rest. Your under eyes are darker." He said, changing the subject. He glanced over at the window. In the wall under the window was a small couch. "Take a short nap on that couch." He pointed over his shoulder.  
"I'm not tired." Michael retaliated.  
"Bullshit." Emily spoke harshly. His eyes were irritated with some sort of deeply concealed rage. Not wanting to piss him off more, Michael walked over to the small couch and laid down. He hung his feet off, not wanting to put his shoes on the couch. Emily sat down in the chair next to his father. He stared at the wall, as if he were trying to burn a whole through it. Michael closed his eyes and slowly drifted off to sleep.

"Your son is scared of you! Don't you find that horrible?" Emily yelled.  
Michael opened his eyes and blinked a few times. He focused his vision on the two men in front of him. His father stood tall, broad shoulders, and wearing a scowl on his face. Emily, slightly shorter, bore a similar expression.  
"He should be after what he did to Chris! That little bastard deserves none of the kindness you give him." His father snarled, poking his finger into Emily's chest.  
"As if you deserve it more. I don't have to be as nice to you as I am, but you're my friend and my business partner. Speaking of business, we need to come up with something to save the pizzeria."  
"Don't change the subject on me, Henry." He crossed his arms.   
"You know I hate arguing with you, especially about your children. I know we're two different people with two different ways to raise kids, but I genuinely believe Michael is traumatized and that should be taken seriously. I just want him to be safe." Emily said softly, placing his hand on William's arm.   
"I know." He sighed, sitting down. "Ever since..." He trailed off. Emily blinked a few times and let out a shaky breath.  
"Ever since what?" Michael blurted out, propping himself up on his elbow. Both of their heads shot in his direction.   
"How long have you been awake?" His father asked.  
"Not that long." He answered, sitting up on the couch. "Ever since what?"   
Emily swallowed. He shoved his hands into his jean pockets and began to shift his weight. "Nothing."  
"I'm not little, I know it isn't nothing. Both of you instantly stopped arguing. What happened?"   
"Michael, stop." His father said firmly.   
"Sorry." He mumbled, lowering his head.  
A nurse broke the uncomfortable silence by entering the room. She chuckled nervously. She glanced from Chris to William.   
"You're his father, correct?" She asked him. He nodded. "Wonderful," she smiled, "I have news from the doctors." Everyone in the room sat up and leaned in to hear what the nurse had to say. She reached up to change the IV bag. It felt like it had been years waiting for someone to speak up.   
"Will he make it?" His father asked, cutting the tension. He was fiddling with his silver wedding band that was placed on his middle finger. The nurse made sure the IV bag was secure and turned to them.   
"Christopher will survive and make a full recovery, but will have non-lethal complications later in life due to the head trauma, such as headaches and sensory issues." Everyone let out a sigh of relief. Michael was glad that Chris would survive, but his life would be more difficult because of him.  
"How long will he be in the hospital?" His father continued to play with the silver band.  
"Any time from a few months to a year. Once he wakes up, which could be anywhere from a few weeks to a month, we'll have to run tests to make sure that his brain is functioning properly. He'll also have to go into physical therapy, so he can regain the strength in his body." She smiled once more. "There's nothing for you to worry about, Mr. Afton. Your son will be alright." She assured him.  
"Thank you so much." His father said with the most kindness in his voice that Michael had ever heard.   
"How old is he?" The nurse asked, gently touching Chris's shoulder.  
"He just turned six yesterday."  
"If you don't mind me asking, what happened?"  
Michael swallowed. His father glanced at him, catching his eye.   
"His head accidentally got crushed." His father said, telling a half truth.   
"Awe, I'm sorry that happened. He'll be alright, I promise." She smiled. "Let me know if anything happens." She waved as she put the cart out of the room.   
His father stood up, brushing the wrinkles out of his clothes. He turned to Emily and Michael.   
"Do either of you want lunch?"   
"What's with you being nice all of the sudden?" Emily asked.  
"Oh, shut up, I used to pay for your meals all the time in college. This is normal." Emily's face flushed a bit. "Do you want lunch or not?"  
"Sure." Michael stood up from the small couch.   
"Fine." Emily sighed.   
His father lightly kissed the top of Chris's head and exited the room. After Emily left the room, Michael did the same as his father, and kissed the top of his brother's head. 

Michael couldn't remember the last time he sat down and had a meal with his father, let alone at a restaurant. They were sitting in a booth. Michael rested his elbow on the windowsill. Emily sat next to him and his father across from him. Michael stared out of the window, taking small sips from his glass and listening in to the adults' conversation.  
"We can't let the pizzeria get shut down. I refuse to let my bloody family be proven right." His father sneered.  
Emily laughed.  
"You really still hate your family don't you?"   
His father sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.   
"I wouldn't say I hate them, Henry. I have a strong dislike for my parents."  
"So you hate them?"   
"I guess I do, but only my parents." His father sighed. "They always despised that I moved to America. They wanted our business to fail from the very beginning. I can't let them win."   
"We won't, Will." Emily placed his hand on top of his. "I have some blueprints in my garage for some animatronics that I've been working on. They're based on our old concepts. You know, the band of three and the pirate fox?"   
"Yes, I suppose we could use those."  
Emily smiled.  
"See? You don't have to worry about us shutting down for good."  
Michael was getting bored of their conversation and turned his attention to the world outside. There were people walking around, enjoying their Saturday morning. He easily recognized his ex-friend's platinum blond hair. Next to him was a boy he hadn't seen before. The boy was tall, with dark short hair. He probably hadn't broken Kyle's arm. Michael felt jealousy bubble up inside of him; he thought about his kiss with Rico, and it all melted away. It wouldn't be fair for him to be jealous. He sighed, tapping his fingers on the table.  
"Michael?"   
"Huh?"   
"You alright, kid?" Emily asked.  
"Yeah, just thinking..."  
"You need to order, Michael." His father said.   
Michael snapped his head into the direction of the waitress. She was a short redheaded girl who sat in front of him in Algebra. He gave her an awkward smile. He quickly fixed his hair and avoided looking directly at her while speaking.   
"I'll just have a burger that's all." He spoke up. She scribbled his order onto the small notebook she was holding.  
"Alrighty! Your food should be out soon. See you on Monday, Michael." She gave him a little wave as she walked away.   
"Who's that?" His father asked.  
"Angie, didn't you read her name tag?"   
His father rolled his eyes.  
"I did, Michael. You don't have to be snappy. You know her?"  
"Yes, she's just a girl in my math class."  
Emily broke into the conversation.  
"Well, she seems sweet. Was she wearing a hearing aid?"   
"Yeah, she's deaf in her right ear." Michael said as he took a sip of his pop. It was too early for him to be drinking pop, but he didn't like coffee and needed the caffeine to wake him up. He observed the people in the restaurant as Emily and his father continued to converse.

Michael ate slowly. He hadn't eaten anything since the accident. Despite this, he wasn't really hungry. He had only finished about half of his food while Emily and his father had finished. Michael pushed the plate towards the middle of the table.   
"I'm sorry. I can't eat the rest." He mumbled and glanced at his father.   
"I've already paid. It does matter."   
Michael stacked his plate on top of the others and took one last sip of his drink before following the adults out to the front. Before he could push the door open, someone touched his shoulder. He turned around to reveal Angie standing behind him.   
"Hi, Michael! I know we don't talk much, but it was nice seeing you today. You look a little worn out. I don't know if it's my place to ask, but are you okay?" She looked up at him. Her eyes were a bright blue, a calming blue, unlike his own icy eyes.   
"Yeah, I'm fine, just tired. Studying for exams has worn me out." He lied. He had been studying a little, but not enough to make him look as exhausted as he was.   
"Oh. Well, if you ever want someone to study with just call me!" She grabbed her pen off her shirt pocket. "Gimme your arm." Michael held out his arm. Angie pushed up his sleeve and wrote her phone number one his skin. She wrote her name above it, dotting the 'I' with a heart. "See ya' later!" She waved and walked back behind the counter. Michael pushed down his sleeve and left the restaurant. 

Michael's father drove them all back to the hospital. Before he and Emily left for home, he wanted to visit Chris once more. He let Emily and his father talk by the car while he went to Chris's room. He walked through the halls. He tried his best to block out the beeping machines.   
He approached the room and looked up at the number on the door. He knew it was foolish to hope that Chris would wake up so soon, but he needed him to wake up. He turned the doorknob and pushed open the heavy door.   
Inside, there was a woman standing at the foot of the bed. Michael couldn't believe his eyes.   
"Mom?"


	15. Mother & Father

His mother stared at him for a moment; that moment felt like forever. She looked a lot different than Michael remembered. Her blonde hair had been dyed a rich ebony. The way her makeup was done made her look about ten years younger than she was. Her green eyes were much brighter, happier. She gave him a warm smile. He couldn’t help but return it. Her smile reminded him of Elizabeth. Lizzie was the spitting image of her mother, much like Michael and their father. His mother took a step towards him.  
“Michael,” she said softly, “look at you. You’re all grown up now.” Her eyes watered. She gently patted them with a tissue. “Michael, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have left you with your father. I know how hard he was on you, but I couldn’t take him anymore.” She sniffled and wiped her eyes again with the tissue.   
Michael didn’t want to argue. Both of them were extremely vulnerable. He nodded.  
“I can’t take him either…”  
“Oh honey, I’m so sorry…” His mother hugged him. He instantly melted into its warmth. She pulled away from the hug. “You look just like him.”  
“I know. I hear it all the time.” Michael huffed.  
“Where is your father? You can’t be here all by yourself.”  
“With Mr. Emily in the parking structure.”   
She nodded and walked across the room to the small couch. She sat down and patted the spot next to her. Hesitantly, Michael followed and sat next to her. He avoided looking at her, only looking at the wall.   
“How have you been, sweetheart?”  
“Good.”  
“Still not much of a talker, huh?” She sighed. “I’m not sure why I expected your father to be able to raise you. He was never much help when I was around.”   
The two sat in silence for a moment. They weren’t sure what to say to each other. It had been five years since they had any interaction at all. Michael broke the silence.  
“What made you come back?”   
“Your father told me what happened, and how it happened.” His mother replied.  
“But you didn’t come to Lizzie’s funeral.”  
“I couldn’t afford to. I ran away with barely any money. I wanted to go, but I’ve been living off odd jobs for years.” She explained, fidgeting with her hands. She wasn’t wearing her silver wedding band. “I was finally able to afford to come here. And when your father called me and told me about Chris, I knew I needed to come home.” She looked at Michael, who was staring at her hands. “Oh sweetie, what has he done to you? You can barely look at me.” She lifted his chin up. Michael pushed her hand off him and shrugged.   
“I just don’t like looking at people.” Michael replied quietly. “Eye contact is too hard.”   
“I see… I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. I made a horrible decision.” Michael shrugged again. His mother sighed. “Go back to your father now. He’s probably wondering where you are.”   
Just then, as if on cue, Emily and his father entered the room. A heavy silence fell over the room for a few moments.   
“Clara?” His father stared at her as if he had seen a ghost. His mother stood up slowly, giving her ex-husband a half smile.   
“Hello, William, Henry. I got your call, so I dropped by.”   
“You could’ve called to tell me you were coming. I didn’t want to see you.” His father spat.  
“Oh please, William, I shouldn’t have to. He’s my son too. You didn’t have to call me if you didn’t want to.”  
“I felt like I had to. But I didn’t expect you to actually show up. You didn’t even show up to your daughter’s funeral.”  
“I told you exactly why I could go! You never showed up to anything Michael had when he was little. And what the hell have you done to him? The poor boy can’t even look at me!” Michael’s muscles tensed up; he was stuck in the middle again.   
“I’ve done nothing to him. He’s just a brat!” His father shouted.   
“Stop!” Michael blurted out, causing his parents to focus on him. “Just… ugh!” He spun around and sprinted out of the room. His parents were calling after him. He was crying again. Great. Fast, heavy footsteps followed him. There were Emily’s. He tried his best to avoid the people and machinery in the halls. Staff yelled at him to stop, but he didn’t listen. He stopped running when he reached a dead end. He placed his hand on his chest and began to catch his breath. The door at the beginning of the hallway burst open. Michael’s gaze shot up from the floor.   
“I know how much you hate when they fight. I’m sorry they can’t act like adults.” Emily said, leaning against the wall. He looked bothered. He had seen Michael’s parents fight hundreds of times before. “Sorry your dad had to ruin the moment with your mom.” Emily got off the wall and approached Michael. He threw his arm around his shoulder and walked down the hall with him. “We could have her over for dinner one night if you’d like.”   
“No… it’s alright. I’m still confused on how I feel about her.” Michael admitted.   
“And that’s fine. You don’t have to have everything sorted out.” Emily patted Michael’s shoulder. “Why don’t you help me with the new animatronics when we get home?” 

Taking a break from helping Emily, Michael picked up the phone and dialed the number written on his wrist. He mumbled the numbers as he punched them in. A short time played before someone picked up the phone.  
“Hello! Angelina Krakauer speaking. Who’s this?”   
“Hey, Angie. It’s me, Michael.”   
“Hey! You sound like you’re in a better mood.” She giggled.  
“I am, actually.” He smiled.   
“Great! Why’d you call?”  
“I just wanted to ask if you wanted to study together, for that Algebra test next week?”   
“Yeah! I’d love to. I actually really need help with this unit, and I know you’re good at it.” Michael’s cheeks grew warm.  
“Who’re you talking to?” Charlie asked. Michael jumped and turned around.   
“None of your business, Charlie.” He huffed, his face bright red.   
“Is it a girl?” She teased.  
“Shut up! Go help your dad or something.” He lightly shoved her.  
Once she was gone, Michael went back to his phone call. Angie was laughing.   
“Sorry about that.”   
“It’s okay! Does Friday after school sound good? I can walk home with you.” She suggested.   
“Sounds good. See you tomorrow.”   
“Bye! See you tomorrow!” She hung up. Michael placed the phone back on the receiver with a sigh. Talking to different people than his usual circle was refreshing.   
“Michael!” Emily called from the garage.   
“Coming!” He shouted back as he made his way to the garage. They were working on basic builds of the new animatronics. They had to get the skeletons down before they could do anything else. He stepped into the garage. Emily was building the skeleton for the animatronic “Freddy”.   
“What do you think so far?” Emily asked, gesturing to the half a torso and legs standing in the middle of the floor.  
“I think it’s solid. How long will it take to complete the whole robot?”   
“I’m not sure… I’m hoping your father will help me and we can get at least two of them completed before the deadline.” Emily knelt by the skeleton and continued working on it. “I’m just hoping he won’t be too hung up on your mother being here. Speaking of your mother, have you thought about having her over for dinner?”  
“I… I think it would be a good idea to have her over one night. Maybe one night when Charlie and Sammy are at Tammy’s house.”   
“Well, I have to take them over to her place tonight. So any night this week is okay.” Emily said without looking up from his project. “Can you pass me that screwdriver?” He pointed towards a flathead screwdriver on the floor. Michael kicked the screwdriver over to him and sat on the opposite side of the skeleton.   
They sat in a calm silence for a while as Emily worked on it.   
“Can we go to the hospital after school tomorrow?” Michael asked quietly. Emily looked up at him. “I want to read those comic books to him.”  
“Yeah, of course.” He set his screwdriver down. “I know how you’re feeling, kid. I also know your father won’t be much help. Just let me know if there’s anything else you want.”   
Michael nodded, cracking his knuckles. His throat dried up, and he took a deep breath.  
“I just want a happy family…” He admitted. He glanced at Emily, who wore a sympathetic look. He bit his lip to stop it from quivering. “I just want to be normal…” Emily moved himself closer to him.  
“Michael…” He placed his hand on Michael’s knee. “Charlie, Sammy, and I are always a family to you. And you are normal. It’s normal to feel the way you do. You’re just a kid.”  
“No, not like that…”  
“What do you mean?”  
“I like boys and girls.”   
“Oh.” Emily said. “That’s totally normal, Michael. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”  
Michael raised his eyebrow.   
“You’re not mad?” He asked.  
“Of course not. You’re still the same person.” He gave Michael a soft smile.  
“Thank you, Mr. Emily.”   
Emily chuckled.  
“Please, Michael, just call me Henry.”  
“Thanks, Henry.” Michael smiled.


End file.
